m 


r         m  MEA\Q 


I  Geor^:.e   Davidson    1^2^-1311 


U^ 


I 


^ 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES. 


BY 


Lx\DY   BULAVER   LYTTON. 

AUTHOK  OF  "CHEVELEY,"   "SCHOOL  FOB  HUSBANDS,"  ETC. 


"  Providence  is  dark  in  its  permissions ;  yet  one  day  wlien  all  is  known, 
The  universe  of  Keason  shall  acknowledge  how  just  and  good  were  they." 
Tu2yper''s  Proverbial  Philosophy. 

"  All  who  have  treated  of  divine  subjects,  whether  Greeks  or  barbarians,  indus- 
triously involved  the  beginnings  of  things,  and  delivered  the  truth  in  enigmas,  signs, 
and  symbols ;  in  allegories,  and  metaphors,  and  other  such  figures." 

Clement  of  Alexandria^  Strom.  L.  v.,  p.  658,  Ox.  Ed. 


THREE  VOLUMES  IN  ONE. 


NEW  YORK: 
KIKER,  THORNE  &  CO.,  129   FULTON   STREET. 

M.DCOO.LIV. 


^CT^i- 


H 


(J 


JOHN  F.  TROW,  PiiiNTEK, 
49  Ann-street 


\  q  q  y  i./. 


-^1 


V 


DfMfation. 


TO    TIIE    ORExVT— AND    WILL    BE    GREATER  — 

AMERICAN  NATION; 
WHO   ALL,    IN     "GOING     AHEAD" 

IN  THE  MIGHTY  RACE  OF 

SOCIAL,    MORAL,    SCIENTIFIC,    LITERARY,    POLITICAL,    AND    ARTISTIC 
EMULATION, 

NEVER    FORGET     THAT 

A    SOUND    HEART 


THE   BEST    SCREW   PROPELLER   THAT   THE    VAST    ENGINE    OF 
PROGRESSION    CAN    HAVE, 

TUIS    VOLUME    IS    DEDICATED     BY    TIIEIR    FRIEND 
AND    ADMIRER, 

THE   AUTIIOPw. 


M,li77810 


The  original  iutentiou  of  the  Authoress  was  merely  to  have 
appeared  as  the  Editor  of  this  work,  hut  circumstances  have 
occurred  during  its  progress  through  the  press,  which  render  the 
acknowledgment  of  the  authorship  desirable. 


PRELIMINARY    ADDRESS. 

TO   ALL   WHO   SUFFER. 

I  ADDEESS  these  remarks  to  you,  fellow-sufferers,  because  everj- 
thing  in  these  days,  is  "  Foe  the  Million  !  "  But  as  all  works  of 
apparent  supererogation  require,  if  not  an  apology,  at  least  an 
explanation,  I  must  say  a  few  words  that  may  serve  for  the  lat- 
ter ;  for,  truly,  at  an  epoch  when  the  very  gravitation  of  the 
world  seems  endangered  by  the  chaotic  masses  under  which 
every  printing-press  groans,  anything  in  the  shape  of  an  addi- 
tional atom,  laid  on  the  tottering  heap,  may  be  well  calculated  to 
create  alai*m;  besides  "How  presumptuous  !  "  some  will  exclaim — 
"Lay  Sermons,  indeed !  as  if  there  were  not  already  a  superabun- 
dance of  proper,  orthodox,  clerical  sermons  both  preached,  and 
published,  without  the  world  being  inundated  with  any  amateur 
trash !  "  True,  most  true,  my  dear  sir,  or  madam ;  and  so  com- 
pletely did  I  agree  with  you,  in  this  view  of  the  case,  that  most 
assuredly  these  humble  pages  would  never  have  seen  the  light  in 
a  printed  form,  had  it  not  been  for  the  following  circumstances. 
Often  have  I  heard  it  remarked,  with  regret,  by  those  "who 
labour  and  arc  heavy  laden,"  both  in  coming  out  of  the  lowly 
porch  of  the  village  fane,  and  on  leaving  the  more  gorgeous  aisles 
of  some  medio3val  cathedral,  tliat  the  text  had  not  been  more 
expounded,  and  less  often  repeated ;  and  this  remark  more  par- 


6  PRELIMINARY    ADDRESS. 

ticularly  struck  me  coming  from  the  lips  of  good  mistress  Amy 
Yerner,  the  landlady  of  a  little  road-side  Highland  inn,  and  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  the  Sir  Oracle,  as  well  as  the  Lady  Boun- 
tiful of  that  ilk,  as  she  and  I  were  one  Sabbath  leaving  the 
village  church  together.  It  was  evident  something  had  displeased 
her,  either  in  or  before  the  afternoon-service,  though  most  proba- 
bly the  former ;  for  albeit  Archdeacon  Panmuir  was  no  favourite 
of  hers,  although  an  excellent  customer  in  a  spirituous  point  of 
view,  and  first  cousin  to  The  Panmuir,  the  Laird  of  Glenfern. 

"  Good  day,  Mrs.  Verner,"  said  I.  But  no  answer  did  the 
worthy  lady  vouchsafe,  but  kept  nervously  twitching  her  fingers, 
and  muttering  to  herself — 

"Eh,  weel,  praching  is  ane  thing  and  practising  is  anither; 
ond  then  to  thank  o'him  dinning  ento  us,  as  ef  we  waur  a  pack  o' 
heathens  just ;  that  we  were  to  believe  in  the  Laird  Jesus  Christ; 
av  coorse  we  believe  in  him,  at  least  we  profess  to  do  so ;  or  we 
should  na'  coom  to  a  Christian  kirk.  Sammy  Panmuir :  much 
better  tell  us  hoo  to  prove  oor  blief,  as  oor  blessed  Laird  did  him- 
sel,  wi'  parables  and  the  like,  which  were  human  stories  of  human 
deeds,  braught  hame  to  human  understandings,  and  not  ding-dang 
at  the  taxt,  which  we  can  a'  speer  oot  for  oursels,  in  oor  ain 
Bibles,  at  hame.  'Wait  on  the  Laird,'  indeed!  nae  fear  but  yer 
just  the  lad  that  wad  wait  on  the  Laird  fast  enoo  gin  ye  thought 
he  had  a  better  living  in  his  gift  to  gi'  ye,  Sammy  Panmuir! " 
The  latter  part  of  this  speech  was  in  allusion  to  the  text,  which 
had  been  from  Isaiah  xi.  31 — "  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord 
shall  renew  their  strength ;  they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as 
eagles :  they  shall  run,  and  not  be  weary ;  they  shall  walk,  and 
not  faint." 

"Hoot!  Maister  Alciphron,  yer  the  vary  chiel  that  cud  do  it," 
added  she,  turning  quickly  round  upon  me. 

"Do  what,  my  good  Mrs.  Verner?" 


PRELIMINARY    ADDRESS.  7 

"Why  just  prent  a  few  bit  parables  to  pit  a'  these  prachings 
into  practice.  Eh !  if  it  waur  ainly  tlie  awfu'  tragedy  of  the  piiir 
young  laird,  just." 

"i»ray,"  rejoined  I,  as  I  shook  my  head  with  a  melancholy 
smile.  "For  that  matter,  the  printing  would  not  come  any  nearer 
to  the  practice,  than  the  preaching." 

"  Eh,  weel,  ye  ken  vara  weel  what  I  mean  :  yeVe  Mn  a'  the 
warld  over ;  yeVe  sipt  sorrow  oot  of  avry  ane's  cup,  and  can  aye 
feel  for  they  that  ha'  the  draining  o'  those  bitter  cups  ;  nae  griefs 
sae  strange,  but  what  ye  ken  a  fellow  to  it ;  nae  heart  sae  dark, 
but  what  ye  ha'  a  gleam  of  the  true  light  to  cheer  it  wi'.  The 
world's  a  wide  field  that  death  is  ever  mowing ;  but  the  harvest 
thereof  is  God's  for  a'  that — though  the  deil  does  get  the  tares ; 
and  ye  ha'  nae  gleaned  in  thot  field  for  sae  mony  weary  years 
without  the  Laird  helping  you  to  bind  up  yer  load ;  sae,  noo  that 
the  evening  is  come,  ye  maun  just  write  a  few  parables  shewing 
forth  the  gudeness  o'  God,  to  pit  a  little  heart  into  those  that 
have  still  to  toil  through  the  heat  o'  the  day — it  wad  do  mair 
good  than  a'  Sammy  Panmuir's  flings  at  the  Papists,  which  he 
must  have ;  waur  he  preaching  about  Persians  or  potatoes,  he 
cud  na'  get  on,  without  a  spar  at  the  Pope  ! " 

"  '  If  they  hear  not  ^oses  and  the  prophets,  neither  will  they  be 
persuaded,  though  one  rose  from  the  dead,' "  said  I,  "  and  if  either 
precept  or  example  could  mend  the  world,  it  had  been  made 
whole  long  ere  this.  '  Paul  may  plant  and  ApoUos  water,  but 
God  alone  giveth  the  increase.'  So  we  can  only  conclude  that 
the  time  is  not  yet  come,  for  either  precept  or  example  to  bear 
fruit ;  what  presumption  therefore  would  it  be  in  me  to  imagine 
that  breath  of  mine  could  do  anything  towards  ripening  those 
precious  fruits." 

"  Hoot !  hoot,  mon !  ye  ken  those  giant  oak'es  that  grow  out 
of  the  slate  quarry  by  the  mountain  side ;  and  the  bright,  fresh, 


0  TRELIMINARY    ADDRESS. 

bonnie  wild  flowers  that  seem  to  wave  and  laugli  like  wee  things 
of  bairns  round  their  roots,  a'  cold  and  barren  though  the  soil  be  ? 
TVeel,  it  was  nae  mortal  hand  that  planted  them,  but  the  puir 
birds  o'  the  air,  just,  who  as  they  flew  to  their  rest,  dropped  the 
precious  seeds  they  carried  in  their  mouths  by  chance  !  But  mind 
ye ;  the  chances  of  the  creatures  of  one  generation,  are  the  char- 
ters of  the  Creator  to  future  ages ;  and  think  ye,  Maister  Alci- 
phron,  that  the  birds  of  the  air  have  a  higher  mission  to  do  God's 
work  than  you  have  ?  or  that  the  good  seed  dropped  from  your 
mouth,  however  casually,  or  however  barren  and  arid  the  soil 
may  be  whereon  it  happens  to  fall,  will  be  less  fostered  by  God, 
or  less  smiled  on  by  His  angels  ?  *  Besides,  it  isfacs  (facts)  we 
want,  for  it  is/«cs  that  does  the  good;  and  when  I  ha'  seen  as  I 
ha'  done,  within  the  last  sax  months,  the  wounds  ye  have  healed 
by  a  word  in  due  season,  Effie  Cameron,  Jenny  M'Cleod,  Meggie 
Armstrong,  and  me,  will  let  ye  hae  nae  peace,  till  ye prent  the 
facs  we  have  heerd  ye  tell." 

I  confess  that  good  Dame  Yerner's  simile  of  the  sturdy  oaks 
growing  in  Herculean  strength  and  almost  fabulous  luxuriance 
out  of  the  sterile  quarry,  while  sweet,  ever-springing  flowers,  like 
happy  thoughts  and  gentle  emotions, twined  around  their  strength, 
had  more  to  do  with  inducing  me  to  cast  my  humble  offering  into 
Nature's  universal  lap,  than  even  the  combined  terrors  of  the  Ef- 
fie, Jenny,  and  Meggie  triumvirate,  who,  sooth  to  say,  were  not 
calculated  to  endanger  any  man's  peace ;  unless,  indeed,  it  were 
after  the  fashion  in  which  the  weird  sisters  jeopardized  that  of 
Macbeth.  Moreover,  I  reflected  that  had  the  birds  of  the  air  pos- 
sessed the  reasoning  powers  of  human  beings,  and  with  these  their 
concomitant  vanity  and  ambition,  they  would  have  held  tight 

*  "  There  is  a  pretty,  pious,  and  poetical  superstition  in  many  mountainous  districts 
of  Scotland  and  Ireland,  that  -n'herever  -wild  flowers  abound  in  a  stone  or  slate 
quarry,  the  angels  have  smiled  in  passing  over  the  desolate  waste,  which  has  in- 
stantly blushed  into  flowers,  beneath  their  celestial  notice." 


preliminahy  address.  9 

their  little  germ  of  future  power,  and  never  have  condescended  to 
drop  it  into  barren  quarries  and  unfrequented  by-ways,  not  being 
satisfied  unless  they  had  a  proper  field  for  their  labours,  and  could 
plant  forests  !  parks !  gardens !  and  all  the  broad  highw^ays  and 
thoroughfares  of  the  world.  Thanks,  little  rooks  and  ravens,  for 
teaching  me  a  great  lesson — namely,  that  each  separate  unit  of 
this  concrete  world  should  labour  in  its  vocation,  only  where, 
when,  and  how  the  Creator  pleaseth ;  to  attempt  more  is  rebel- 
lion— to  do  less  is  disobedience. 

"  Well,  well,  Mrs.  Verner,"  said  I,  as  I  closed  the  little  gate  of 
the  churchyard  behind  us,  we  being  the  last,  owing  to  our  pro- 
tracted conversation — "  I'll  consider  of  it.  And  now,  how  about 
your  poor  invalid — is  he  better  ?  " 

"  Better !  ah,  weel,  yes — mickle  better  I  ween  than  Sammy 
Panmuir,  though  he  be  ca'd  a  Christian,  and  'tither  a  Jew." 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  see  me  ?— unless,"  added  I,  "  it  may 
interfere  with  the  Archdeacon's  visit  ? " 

"  Hoot !  it's  little  ye  ken  of  Sammy  Panmuir ;  if  ye  think  he'd 
spatter  his  phariseeical  pride  by  ganging  to  see  a  sick  Jew !  Nae, 
nae,  he  leaves  that  to  Publicans" — 

"  And  sinners,"  I  chimed  in,  as  I  followed  Mrs.  Verner  into 
her  dominions — the  bar  of  the  "Panmuir  Arms;"  and  some 
"/rtcs  "  that  there  came  to  my  knowledge,  determined  me  upon 
what  that  worthy  woman  called  '-'■  Prenting  my  Parables;  "  or  in 
other  words,  publishing  the  following 

LAY  SERMONS, 

all  of  which  have  but  one  text — 

"  Do  TJNTO  OTHERS  AS  YOU  WOULD  THEY  SHOULD  DO  UNTO    YOU." 


PREFACE. 

To  bore  the  reader  with  a  Preface  is,  perhaps,  of  all  an  author's 
faults,  the  one  he  is  least  inclined  to  pardon ;  but  among  the 
many  twaddles  of  our  times  there  is  one  very  rife  (more,  it  is 
true,  among  reviewers,  than  among  the  general  class  of  readers 
emphatically  called,  "  The  Public  "),  and  this  one  consists  in 
asking,  "  Why  won't  people  write  novels  in  one  volume,  like 
'  The  Vicar  of  AVakefield  ? ' "  Simply  because  each  succeeding 
age  has  its  own  peculiar  tone  and  inflection,  of  which  writers 
are  but  the  echoes,  and  therefore  they  cannot  choose  but  echo 
them  correctly. 

Life  in  Goldsmith's  day,  was  much  less  hurried,  and,  above 
all,  much  less  filled  up,  not  to  say  closely  packed,  than  it  is  now  ; 
and  even  the  Primrose  family,  had  they  been  created  in  these 
\iays,  and  located  in  Cornwall  itself,  or  even  at  Lancast ! — where 
local  traditions  aver  that  the  devil  caught  cold  and  died !  (which, 
if  true,  would  have  considerably  abridged  his  memoirs) — still, 
Deborah  herself  would  have  been  different,  for  she  would  have 
taken  in  "Eliza  Cook's  Journal,"  and  so  deserted  pickles  for 
poetry.  As  for  the  Vicar,  dear,  good,  Christian  soul  that  he 
was,  he  would  have  been  such  a  fish  out  of  water,  that  I  doubt 
if  he  could  have  existed  '  at  all  in  these   high-pressure  times. 


12  PREFACE. 

The  girls,  indeed,  from  being  (as  all  girls  are)  more  adaptive, 
might  have  got  on  very  well ;  only  instead  of  "  flouiishing  upon 
catgut,"  they  would  have  flourished  upon  paper.  George, 
though  he  might  have  deserted  Miss  Wilmot,  would  at  least 
have  had  the  prudence  not  to  lose  sight  of  her  strong  box. 
Burchell,  instead  of  frittering  away  his  energies  in  whistles  and 
gingerbread  for  the  children,  would  have  devoted  himself  to  the 
world  at  large,  either  by  concocting  or  subverting  dynasties. 
The  town  ladies — but  more  especially  Miss  Carolina  Whilhel- 
mina  Amelia  Skeggs — instead  of  talking  "  taste,  Shakspeare, 
and  the  musical  glasses,"  would  have  ivritten  upon  table-turn- 
ing, sonnambulism,  and  the  mesmeric  asses !  The  seven  Miss 
Flamboroughs  would  at  lcastha.ye  been  drawn  with  seven  pine- 
apples, instead  of  seven  oranges,  in  their  hands.  Dick,  instead 
of  getting  a  lump  of  sugar  for  speaking  first,  would  have  repudi- 
ated sugar  altogether,  from  the  innate  conviction  that  its  sac- 
charine properties  are  injurious  to  the  gastric  juices.  Moses,  in- 
stead of  buying  grosses  of  green  spectacles  at  English  fairs, 
would  have  given  his  great  commercial  talents  a  wider  scope, 
by  going  on  a  foreign  tour  with  those  distinguished  travellers, 
"  Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson."  And,  though  last  not  least, 
Squire  Thornhill,  instead  of  playing  the  French  horn  at  his 
uncle's  side-table,  would  have  played  first  fiddle — by  making 
his  profligacy  cosmopolitan,  and  writing  moral  essays  for  "  The 
Edinburgh,"  and  utihtarian  articles  for  "The  Westminster," 
relieved  by  occasional  educational  and  philanthropic  harangues 
at  Mechanics'  Institutes,  till  Provincial  Mammas  and  Misses 
(bless  their  innocent  hearts,  and  ignorant  heads !)  would  have 
deemed  him  a  model  Moralist !  " 

But  population  having  greatly  increased — as  the  aforesaid 


PREFACE. 


I 


Westminster  scholar  and  Miss  Martineau  can  inform  you, — an 
the  said  population  all  going  at  railway  speed,  is  one  cause 
which  has  swelled  the  bulk  of  novels  (for  Richardson  is  the  ex- 
ception that  proves  the  rule,  he  being  the  only  old  romancer  that 
ever  laboured  under  that  fearful  malad}-,  hterary  elej^hantiasis !) ; 
for,  with  the  multitudinous  Dramatis  Personas  which  a  trans- 
cript of  modern  hfe  entails,  it  is  impossible  to  be  graphic  within 
a  very  restricted  compass.  The  most  masterly  fictions  in  the 
language  are  Daniel  De  Foe's  ;  and  win'  is  this  ?  Not,  certain- 
ly, even  from  their  unrivalled  English  and  incomparable  style, 
but  from  their  being  so  graphic  as  to  make  it  almost  impossible 
to  believe  that  they  are  not  only  reahties,  but  realities  scrupu- 
lously and  minutely  noted  ;  for,  as  the  great  Lord  Chatham,  be- 
fore he  discovered  De  Foe's  "  Memoirs  of  a  Cavaher,  during  the 
Civil  "Wars  in  England,"  to  be  a  fiction,  used  to  cite  it  as  the 
best  account  of  the  Civil  Wars  extant ;  so  the  world  at  large 
believed  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  to  be  a  veritable  history.  Having 
evoked  this  great  name,  I  cannot  express  my  own  feelings  better 
(more  especially  in  I'egard  to  the  fate  of  this  work)  than  in  this 
"  second  Daniel's  "  own  terse  and  energetic  words — "  I  am  a 
Stoic,"  says  he,  and  say  I,  "  In  whatever  may  be  the  event  of 
things,  I'll  do  and  say  what  I  think  is  a  debt  to  justice  and 
truth,  without  the  least  regard  to  clamour  and  reproach ;  and 
as  I  am  utterly  unconcerned  at  human  opinion,  the  people  who 
throw  away  their  breath  so  freely  in  censuring  me,  may  con- 
sider of  some  better  use  to  make  of  their  passions,  than  to  waste 
them  on  a  person  that  is  both  above  and-  below  the  reach  of 
them.  I  know  too  much  of  the  world  to  expect  good  in  it ; 
and  I  have  learned  to  value  it  too  little  to  be  concerned  at  the 
evil.     I  have  gone  through  a  life  of  wonders,  and  am  the  subject 


14  PREFACE. 

of  a  vast  variety  of  providences;  I  have  been  fed  more  by 
miracle  than  Elijah,  when  the  ravens  were  his  purveyors ;  and 
in  the  school  of  affliction  I  have  learnt  more  philosophy  than  at 
the  academy,  and  more  divinity  than  from  the  pulpit." 

With  reference  to  the  Dramatis  Personse  of  these  Lay  Ser- " 
mons,  I  refer  all  readers  to  "  Gil  Bias ' "  author's  dedication, 
which  is  mine — only  Le  Sage  got  hold  of  it  first ! — and  au  sage 
un  demi  mot ! 

Alciphron. 

London,   1854. 


BEHIND  THE   SCENES. 


PARABLE  THE  FIRST. 

SECTION  I. 

C^e  |to  miiJ  tlje  Gentile. 

"  "Who  can  understaud  his  errors  ?  "—Psalm  xix.  12. 

"  The  more  honest  a  man  is,  the  less  he  affects  the  air  of  a  saint.    The  affectation 
of  sanctity  is  a  blot  on  the  face  of  piety."— La vatee. 

As  there  is  nothing  higher,  broader,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
more  profound,  than  Christianity  ;  so  is  there  nothing  lower, 
shallower,  and  narrower  than  sectarianism :  while  the  former, 
emanating  from  God,  approaches  us  to  Him,  the  latter  drags 
us  ever  earthward,  into  that  fearful  abyss  of  stubborn  pride, 
relentless  cruelty,  remorseless  ambition,  and  Janus-faced  treach- 
ery, gloating  avarice,  complex  intrigue,  and  petrifying  selfish- 
ness; under  which  pestilential  influences  the  world  has  become 
hoary  with  vice,  and  w^rinkled  with  sin.  But  let  me  not  be 
misunderstood:  by  sectarianism,  I  do  not  mean  solely  that 
which  appertains  to  the  doctrinal  opinions  either  of  the  Phari- 
saical nigh  Church,  or  the  Puritanical  Low  Churchman,  nor 
of  the  thousand  ites,  Jlights,  is77is,  and  schisms,  branching 
therefrom ;  for  of  this  conscience,  coinage  of  men's  hearts,  as 
God  giveth  the  stamp,  so  lie  alone  can  warrant  the  issue.    No ; 


16  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

I  speak  of  a  secular  sectarianism,  to  "which  every  soul  amongst 
us  is  more  or  less  addicted ;  a  setting  up  and  worshipping  of 
false — yea,  verily  !  most  false — gods  !  which  has  made  social 
idolatry  universal.  Who  can  deny  that  they  are,  to  a  certain 
extent,  the  slave  of  some  particular  2Dassion,  each  of  which  pas- 
sions, when  allowed  to  have  dominion  over  us,  becomes  an 
idol  ?  With  one,  it  is  pride,  with  another,  sloth,  or  anger, 
avarice,  ambition,  lust,  covetousness,  intemperance,  lying,  envy, 
hatred,  or  revenge ;  but  to  each  and  all  of  these,  there  are  but 
two  great  High  Priests,  Mammon,  and  his  elder  brother.  Self- 
ishness. It  is  true,  that  these  idols  are  never  worshipped 
under  these  ugly  names.  No ;  they  have  all  to  be  gracefully 
draped  and  brightly  gilt  before  they  are  bowled  down  to  ; 
therefore  is  it,  that  the  miser,  abounding  in  gold,  but  lacking 
all  things  else,  calls  his  pet  vice  prudence  !  The  coward  boasts 
of  his  peaceful  disposition  ! — the  slothful  man  of  his  content ! 
the  spendthrift  of  his  generosity  !  the  wine-bibber  of  his  social- 
ity and  good  fellowship ! — and  he  whose  "  vaulting  ambition 
o'erleaps  itself,"  of  his  indomitable  courage  and  perseverance  ! 
Thus,  all  these  ugly  vices  go  masquerading  through  the  world 
ill  the  costume  of  the  virtues,  and  as  long  as  they  take  care 
not  to  drop  their  masks,  few  are  so  ill-bred  as  to  question  their 
identity  ;  for,  the  fear  of  reprisals  is  the  safety-valve  of  our  so- 
cial system ;  and  not  throwing  stones  when  we  ourselves  live  in 
glass  houses,  is  the  Brummagem  article  -we  display  for  Christian 
charity !  And  so  it  will  ever  be,  as  long  as  each  of  us  have  a 
sect  or  dominant  pavssion  of  our  own,  accompanied,  as  it  invari- 
ably is,  by  the  most  bigoted  intolerance  against  our  neighbour's 
sect,  or  ruling  passion.  It  is  truly  and  tersely  remarked,  in  a 
charming  little  book,  called  "  Friends  in  Council,"  abounding, 
as  a  w^riter  in  the  Leader  aptly  expresses  it,  in  many  "  an  essay 
in  an  ejDigram," — that  "  it  takes  away  much  of  the  savour  of 
life,  to  live  amongst  those  with  whom  one  has  not  anything  like 
one's  fair  value.  It  may  not  be  mortified  vanity,  but  unsatis- 
fied sympathy,  which  causes  this  discomfort."     True,  most  true ; 


BEHIXD    THE    SCENES.  1*7 

for,  altlioiigli  the  world,  more  especially  in  the  present  day, 
abounds  with  philanthropy  and  benevolence,  it  is  a  melancholy 
fact,  that  every  day  symiKithy  seems  on  the  decrease.  A  phre- 
nologist would  account  for  this,  on  the  principle  of  the  duality 
of  the  brain,  and  would  tell  us  that  there  are  many  persons  who 
have  abundant  benevolence,  who  yet  have  not  an  atom  of  sym- 
pathy ;  true,  again,  and  yet  how  often  are  they  confounded,  and, 
for  that  reason,  many  may  ask  in  what  consists  their  difference? 
It  consists  in  a  very  wide  one,  that  of  saying  and  doing.  Be- 
nevolence is  passive,  sympathy  active;  benevolence  pities, 
but  sympathy  helps  ;  benevolence  professes  to  feel  for  those 
who  suffer  "in  mind,  body,  or  estate;"  but  sympathy  feels  with 
them  ;  and  such  being  the  case,  puts  its  shoulder  to  the  wheel 
of  its  neighbour's  foundered  load,  and  struggles  bravely  to  ex- 
tricate it.  Sympathy,  in  short,  is  practical  Christianity  ;  and 
benevolence,  theoretical  piety.  Sympathy  is  the  wayfaring 
Samaritan,  who,  though  a  stranger,  and  unknown,  does  not  pass 
over  on  the  other  side,  but  pours  oil  and  wine  into  our  wounds, 
and  ministers  to  our  necessities.  Benevolence  is  the  self-right- 
eous Pharisee,  ever  boasting  of  the  good  it  has  done,  and  the 
evil  it  has  left  undone.  And  as  all  qualities  descend  from  one 
generation  to  another — in  tribes  or  races — it  is  for  this  reason 
that  relatives  or  friends  may  be  benevolent^  and  compassionate 
our  misfortunes,  as  far  as  ivords  go ;  or  even  abound  in  works 
of  supererogation — such  as  offering  our  indolence  a  seventh 
carriage,  if  we  already  possess  six  ;  but  should  we  be  penniless, 
and  chance  to  break  our  leg,  and  the  sixpence  has  to  be  sought 
that  would  purchase  a  crutch  to  support  us,  then,  verily,  is  it 
from  the  Samaritan  stranger  that  we  must  seek  it.  But,  per- 
haps, there  may  be,  in  this  still  crude  stage  of  the  world's  pro- 
gression, a  higher  and  deeper  cause  for  the  want  of  sympathy 
that  is  to  be  found  among  human  beings  for  each  other ;  for  it 
may  be  part  of  the  miracle  and  the  mystery  that  is  veiled  in 
the  Holy  of  Holies  of  every  heart,  hovering  on  spirits'  wings 
between  the  Creator  that  afflicts,  and  the  creature  that  is  af- 


18  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

flicted — to  prove  to  them  that  there  is  no  real  sympathy  to  be 
hoped  for,  or  found,  save  from  tlie  ONE  source  from  whence 
all  flows,  and  to  which  all  is  known ;  it  may  be  at  once  to  re- 
prove, and  to  reassure  the  vacillating  faith  of  our  tempest-tossed 
souls ;  as  erst  the  Saviour  did  on  the  sea  of  Tiberias,  that  of 
the  trembling  disciples.  A  guarantee,  in  short,  now,  as  then, 
that  He  is  the7'e,  and  will  save  us  iii,  if  not  always  from,  the 
storm.  How  many  daily  and  hourly  proofs  have  we  of  this  in 
our  internal  world,  the  chronology  of  which  is  more  rapid,  the 
events  more  stimng,  the  dramas  more  thrilling,  the  mysteries 
more  sublime,  the  revolutions  more  frequent,  and  the  progres- 
sion more  imjoortant,  than  any  of  its  faint  foreshadowings, 
which  men  are  wont  to  misnomer  facts,  in  the  external  and 
material  world,  which  is  but  the  husk  of  the  spiritual  creation  ; 
for  it  is  of  the  souVs  records  that  Heaven's  archives  are  com- 
posed. It  is  truly  remarked,  by  the  Reverend  E.  1).  Rendell, 
in  his  admirable  work  on  Antediluvian  History  :  "How  many 
things  there  are  belonging  to  our  nature,  wdiich  actually  exist  a 
long  time  before  we  become  properly  aware  of  them  !  The 
internal  man  exists,  and  we  may  have  this  fact  declared  to  us 
by  infallible  authority  ;  still  we  have  no  right  perception  of  its 
truth  until  we  begin  a  course  of  interior  thinking.  By  this, 
man  attains  the  evidence  of  its  existence,,  and  then  believes." 
And  it  is  a  question  whether  this  course  of  interior  thinking 
ever  would  begin  in  many  of  us,  but  for  affliction,  which  is  the 
whetstone  of  all  the  soul's  blunted  intelligences;  for,  by  in- 
terior thinking,  is  meant  self-examination,  with  a  view  to  ac- 
quiring self-knowledge,  and  must  not  be  confounded  with  those 
mere  intellectual  exhalations,  of  which  even  the  lowest  moral 
natures  are  capable,  and  which  have  often  no  more  to  do  with 
the  construction  of  our  higher  and  spiritual  intelligence,  than 
have  the  vapours  that  rise  from  the  ocean  to  do  with  the  great 
world  of  waters,  beyond  a  throwing  off  of  its  w^orser  and  more 
evanescent  particles.  But  of  the  truth  of  the  above  remark,  of 
there  being  many  things  belonging  to  our  nature  which  actually 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  19 

exist  a  long  time  h'efore  we  become  pro2')erly  aware  of  them,  we 
have  physical,  as  well  as  moral  demonstration  ;  for,  have  we 
not  (though  perfectly  useless  to  us  there)  the  germ  of  all  our 
faculties,  passions,  and  feelings  in  our  mother's  Avomb  ?  and  may 
it  not  be,  that  the  very  highest  intellectual  pre-eminence  that 
the  efforts  or  ambition  of  ifian  can  attain  to  in  this  life,  may  be 
compared  with  the  perfection  he  is  destined  to  arrive  at  in  a 
future  and  eternal  state,  quite  as  embryo  and  undeveloped  as 
were  the  elementary  and  component  attributes  of  his  nature 
prior  to  his  terrestrial  birth  ?  And  oh  !  may  it  not  also  be  the 
comparatively  narrow  confines  of  its  2)resent  sphere,  that  occa- 
sions all  the  throes,  struggles  and  chafings  of  the  future  great 
and  emancipated  spirit;  and  causes  it  to  consider  the  said 
throes,  struggles,  and  chafings,  as  so  many  trials,  afifiictions,  and 
even  unjust  persecutions,  for  want  of  a  broader  light  to  view 
them  by,  which  would  show  that  each  and  every  struggle  was 
but  the  germination  of  the  unborn  angel  ?  But  we  must  leave 
the  Angel,  and  return  to  the  Man. 

The  Archdeacon — whose  afternoon  discourse,  on  the  score 
of  pleasing  Mistress  Amy  Yerner,  had  fallen  so  wide  of  the 
mark — though  Scotch,  was  not  a  minister  of  the  Scottish  Kirk  ; 
but  a  much  greater  personage,  for  he  was  a  canon  of  St.  Paul's, 
and  second  cousin — not  only  to  the  late  Laird  of  Glenfern,  but  to 
the  living  Lord  McToady,  a  Scottish  Peer,  who  had  boo''d  and  hoo^d 
himself  into  that  mysterious  quantum  of  social  and  pohtical  influ- 
ence, which,  for  the  last  century  and  a  half,  has  been  a  riddle  that 
the  Anglo-Saxon  is  not  Oedipus  enough  to  solve ;  and  yet  is  pretty 
much  the  same  as  the  Theban  one  of  old — save  that  the  crawling, 
or  going  upon  all  fours,  is  treated  with  a  difference,  and  protracted 
far  beyond  the  commencement  of  the  career.  Nevertheless — 
to  his  credit  be  it  spoken, — however  steep,  shppery,  or  miry  the 
ascent  which  had  to  be  climbed  might  be,  his  Lordship  never 
lost  the  Celtic  virtue  of  clanship,  or  pushing  the  fortunes  of  his 
relatives,  even  to  the  remotest  degree  of  consanguinity  ;  and 
hence  the  two  fat  livings  held  by  the  Reverend  Samuel  Panmuir. 


20  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Indeed,  his  poor  over-worked  curate, — once  dining  at  the  house 
of  an  old  college-chum,  in  one  of  those  social  saturnalias  that 
after-dinner  confidences  are  wont  to  produce — had  been  heard 
to  observe,  in  strict  secresy  to  his  host,  as  he  held  a  glass  of  rare 
old  port  to  the  light,  to  watch  the  beeswing  which,  like  plea- 
sant rumours,  floated  about  it,  that, ."  Had  the  canon  but  risen 
half  as  early  in  the  morning,  as  he  had  done  in  the  Church,  the 
larks  themselves  never  could  have  been  up  to  him  ! "  Never- 
theless, he  was  not  proud — oh,  dear,  no,  not  by  any  means, — 
for  he  had  presented  the  little  kirk,  at  Glenfern,  with  a  painted 
window,  which  donation  had  been  duly  chronicled  in  all  the 
London,  and  echoed  in  all  the  provincial  papers.  That  he  had 
picked  up  this  piece  of  antiquity,  for  a  song,  in  an  autumnal 
tour  through  the  Netherlands,  remained  a  secret  to  him  and  the 
Dutch  broker  from  whom  he  had  bought  it ;  for  w^hat  the  Scrip- 
ture enjoins  with  regard  to  our  gifts — namely,  not  to  let  our  left 
hand  know  what  our  right  does,  the  Reverend  Samuel  Panmuir 
extended  even  to  his  bargains  ;  so  that,  although  the  objects  of 
art  and  vertu  in  his  house,  were  always  the  most  rare  and  valu- 
able possible — no  one  ever  knew  what  they  had  cost — and  no 
wonder ;  for,  as  we  before  said,  the  Reverend  gentleman  was 
not  proud ;  so  that  not  only  had  he  presented  to  the  village 
kirk  this  painted  window,  which  set  forth  in  all  the  mediaeval 
splendours  of  blue,  red,  green,  and  yellow, — the  miracle  of  the 
loaves  and  fishes  ;  but  he  did  far  more :  for  once  a  year,  at  least 
— generally  about  the  time  that  the  court  moved  northward, — 
he  came  and  dazzled  the  simple  congregation,  with  all  the 
canonical  splendours  of  a  dignitaiy  of  the  Church  ;  and  though 
albeit,  the  fane  was  small,  his  voice  was  as  sonorous  and  com- 
manding as  if  he  had  been  rounding  periods  to  rise  in  inflated 
undulations,  till  they  filled  the  dome  of  his  own  magnificent 
cathedral.  Nor  was  this  edifying  humihty  confined  to  the 
Church  alone ;  for  his  social  amenity  extended  beyond  its  pale, 
and  the  illustrious  prebend,  who  in  London  sipped  tokay  with 
princes,  did  not  in  his  native  Highlands  disdain  to  quaff"  humble 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  21 

toddy  witli  peasants.  His  visit  to  Glenfern  this  year,  had  been 
made  earlier  than  usual,  about  the  beginning  of  August,  in- 
stead of  the  end  of  September,  for  it  had  been  occasioned  by 
a  domestic  tragedy,  which  had  occurred  in  the  Panmuir  family 
— alas!  what  family  is  without  one,  if  not  more?  Though 
some  are  unedited,  and  some  not  even  suspected  !  The  old 
laird,  Muir  of  Panmuir,  as  he  had  been  called  during  his  fa- 
ther's lifetime,  to  distinguish  him  from  the  Laird  of  Glenfern, 
had  died  of  an  apoplectic  fit,  some  fourteen  months  before ; 
leaving  an  only  daughter,  who  was  finishing  her  education  at 
Paris,  and  an  only  son,  a  gentleman-commoner,  at  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  and  who,  at  the  period  of  his  father's  death, 
wanted  eighteen  months  of  being  of  age  ;  although  among  the 
fastest  of  the  very  fast  cantabs  with  whom  he  associated.  Mrs. 
Panmuir  had  been  dead  many  years,  so  that  at  the  laird's  death, 
Edith  Panmuir,  and  her  brother  Donald,  or  The  Panmuir,  as 
he  then  became,  were  orphans.  Great  had  been  the  prepara- 
tions at  Glenfern,  for  the  coming  of  age  of  the  young  laird. 
Old  Mrs.  Dunbar,  their  maternal  grandmother,  had  been  to 
Paris, — a  long  journey  for  her,  even  in  these  days  of  facile  lo- 
comotion,— and  brought  back  her  beautiful  granddaughter, 
Edith,  then  just  entering  her  eighteenth  year,  that  nothing  might 
be  wanting  to  grace  the  festivities  that  were  to  celebrate  young 
Donald's  majority.  But  alas !  as  Archy  Argil,  the  old  sexton 
at  Glenfern,  used  crabbedly  to  twist  the  truism  of  "  Man  pro- 
poses, but  God  disposes " — "  Man  appoints,  but  God  disap- 
points;" and,  just  one  Httle  month  previous  to  this  long-looked 
for  happy  event,  Donald  Panmuir  was  drowned,  in  a  rowing 
match  at  Cambridge.  Nothing,  as  may  be  supposed,  could 
equal  the  consternation  of  the  rest  of  the  boat  club,  at  this  sad 
and  most  unlooked  for  event ;  for  even  amongst  the  most  heart- 
less associations,  any  link  suddenly  severed  from  the  general 
chain,  gives,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a  feeling  of  fear  and  insecu- 
I'ity,  which  comes  home  to  each  individual  as  a  personal  cala- 
mity ;  but;  in  the  present  instance,  the  sorrow  was  less  selfish, 


22  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  more  universal ;  for  the  young  man,  from  his  openness  of 
heart  and  purse,  had  been  a  great  favourite  with  all  his  compan- 
ions— among  whom  it  was  proposed,  that  one  or  more  should 
instantly  set  oft'  for  Glenfern,  to  break  the  heart-rending  tidings 
to  poor  Edith  and  Mrs.  Dunbar,  and  accompan)'-  his  remains  to 
Scotland.  But  no  one  liking  so  sad  a  mission,  they  resolved  to 
cast  lots  as  to  the  two  that  should  go,  for  none  would  consent 
to  being  singly  the  bearer  of  such  fatal  news.  This  point  settled, 
the  chances  fell  to  the  Honourable  Cecil  TrevyHon  andMr.Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars.  The  latter  was  the  clever  man  of  the  term,  and 
had,  no  doubt,  head  enough  to  acquit  himself  creditably,  of 
what,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  might  have  been  considered  a 
far  more  important  embassy.  To  say  he  was  the  clever  man  of 
the  term,  was  to  say  much ;  for  colleges  and  public  schools 
have,  at  particular  epochs,  their  confluent  epidemics  of  embryo 
celebrities,  and  Cambridge  that  year  shrouded  many  a  future 
star  of  the  literary  and  political  hemisphere.  Though  a  fort- 
night had  elapsed,  since  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  and  his  friend 
had  brought  the  sad  tidings,  of  which  they  were  the  bearers,  to 
the  now  truly  bereaved  orphan ;  yet,  at  Glenfern  they  still  lin- 
gered ;  their  pretext  was,  that  they  waited  for  the  sale,  which 
was  now  to  take  place  in  about  another  week  ;  for  the  young 
laird  having,  at  the  time  of  his  decease,  been  a  minor,  he  had 
of  course  died  intestate  ;  and  consequently,  an  immediate  sale 
of  all  his  effects,  without  reserve,  had  been  ordered  by  the  exe- 
cutors, as  the  landed  property  went  to  a  very  distant  branch 
of  the  family.  The  catalogue  included  a  fine  collection  of 
curiously  embossed  Mediaeval  plate  and  bijouterie^  former  gifts 
of  the  Stuarts,  among  which  were  many  sardonyx  and  jewelled 
cups,  and  i^cuelles,  the  dainty  workmanship  of  Benvenuto  Cellini 
and  his  pupil,  Aschauio,  and  brought  by  the  ill-f^ited  Mary 
Stuart  from  her  apartments  in  the  Louvre,  during  her  brilliant 
but  brief  residence  at  the  court  of  Catherine  de  Medici.  But 
what  chiefly  attracted  the  brokers  to  this  sale,  was  a  very  splen- 
didly carved  table,  some  high-backed  chairs,  and  tabourets  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  23 

old  mahogany  as  black  as  ebony,  said,  like  the  dining  tables  at 
Westminster  School,  to  have  been  made  out  of  some  of  the 
vessels  which  had  composed  the  Spanish  Armada ;  and  the 
carving  of  which  was  as  fine,  highly  wrought,  and  elaborate, 
as  any  of  Grinling  Gibbon's  marvels.  These  chairs,  tables,  and 
stools,  which  had  cost  as  a  bargain  £300 — the  young  laird  had 
fallen  in  with  at  Antwerp,  and  had  intended,  upon  attaining  his 
majority,  to  present  as  altarpieces  to  the  church  at  Glenfern. 
Considering,  therefore,  not  only  the  intrinsic,  but  the  conventional 
interest,  attached  to  this  sale,  it  was,  perhaps,  very  natural  that 
the  two  cantabs  should  remain  for  it ;  yet,  their  doing  so  was 
to  me  a  source  of  disquietude  ;  nay,  more,  ever  since  their  ad- 
vent, it  was  as  if — 

"A  great,  and  mighty  shadow  had  fallen  ou  my  heart; " 

and  no  wonder — for  "  coming  events  "  do,  indeed,  "  cast  their 
shadows  before ! "  but,  I  must  not  anticipate. 

The  aihng  Israehte,  that  Mrs.  Verner  had  alluded  to,  was  a 
broker  of  the  name  of  Jacob  Jacobs,  who,  from  the  overturning 
of  a  coach,  on  his  way  to  Perth,  had  met  with  divers  contusions, 
w^hich  had  disabled  him  from  proceeding  on  his  journey,  and 
caused  him  to  be  brought  to  the  nearest  place  of  refuge,  which 
happened  to  be  "  The  Panmuir  Arms ; "  and  even  that  was 
three  miles  across  the  fields ;  here,  for  the  last  ten  days  he  had 
been  laid  up  ;  the  accident  having  occurred  on  the  very  even- 
ing, when  some  business  connected  with  poor  Donald  Pan- 
muir's  death,  had  called  me  to  Edinburgh  ;  and  here,  on  my 
return,  the  previous  Saturday  night  (prior  to  my  conversation 
with  Mrs.  Amy  Verner,  in  the  churchyard),  I  still  found  him, 
and  also  the  two  cantabs,  whom,  from  not  seeing  at  Church,  I 
had  hoped  were  gone ;  but  it  appeared,  they  had  only  gone  out 
for  a  drive  in  Mr.  Trevylion's  tilbury,  for  on  following  Mrs.  Ver- 
ner into  the  inn,  I  overheard  the  following  colloquy,  between 
Tim,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  stud-groom,  and'Railton,  the  Canon's 


24  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

portly  servant,  as  they  puffed  a  duet  together,  with  a  pipe  and 
cigar.  The  former,  having  reheved  his  feehngs  and  expressed 
his  sentiments  by  flinging  his  half-smoked  weed  through  the 
open-window,  at  the  head  of  a  highly  respectable  drake,  who 
was  just  waddling  down  to  an  opposite  pond  to  organize  a 
little  aquatic  excursion  with  his  wdfe  and  family.  The  groom, 
exclaiming,  as  he  hurled  the  firebrand  amongst  them, — 

"  This  here  Pickwick  ain't  worth  a  fardin." 

He  next  proceeded  to  light  another,  from  the  bowl  of  his 
companion's  pipe  ;  having  achieved  this  new  conflagration,  he 
added,  between  every  cloud  of  smoke — 

"  Your  master  be  a  near  relation,  hain't  he,  of  the  young 
lady,  up  at  the  moated  house,  yander  ? — Miss  Panmuir,  I  mean  ? " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  ! — second,  or  third  cousin,  or  somethink  of 
that  sort." 

"  Oh,  endeed  !  Well,  I'd  a  notion,  as  all  Scotch  relations 
was  near." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  asked  the  other,  actually  removing  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth. 

"  Cause,  all  Scotch  people  is  so  unkimmen  stingy,  that  I 
thought  they  must  be  near  relations ;  if  so  be  as  they  was  any. 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  no  offence,  Mr.  Railton,  sir  ;  I  looks  towards  you." 
And  with  a  loud  laugh,  at  his  own  wit,  he  raised  a  can  of  ale, 
that  stood  between  them,  and  drank  a  large  draught. 

"  Is  your  gent  agoing  to  make  any  stay  in  these  parts  ? " 
asked  Railton,  as  he  emptied  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  refill  it. 

"  Ah  !  now,  that's  just  like  basking  what  colour  the  wind  is. 
It's  not  easy  to  know  what  my  master  have  done,  or  who  he 
have  done !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  let  alone  what  he  means  to  do.  So, 
yer  see,  like  master,  like  man ;  and  as  he  never  says,  I  can't 
say,  heither  ;  but  don't  let  us  talk  of  our  masters,  its  so  perdigus 
personal ;  and  personalities,  should  always  be  awoided  in  good 
surciety  ;  as  I  heerd  Lord  Snobsby's  walley  say  one  night  at 
our  goose  club.     But,  who's  that  elderly  gent,  though,  as  I  saw 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  25 

one  evening  at  the  moated  house,  when  we  first  come  ?  Some- 
thing hke  a  grey  mare,  in  regard  to  having  black  eyes,  and  a 
white  mane,  and  tail  Hke,  I  thought  as  far  as  I  could  see,  'twixt 
windows  and  doors,  he  seemed  to  keep  an  unkimmen  sharp  eye 
on  the  young  lady.  Don't  wonder  at  it,  though  ;  never  saw  a 
better  forehand  in  my  life — beautiful  action — clever  head — and 
pins  as  clean  as  a  whistle  ! " 

"  You  don't  mean  Parson  Eraser  ? " 

"  No,  no  !  I  know  he  by  sight ;  he  wears  a  brown  bob-wig, 
he  do ;  no ;  the  chap  I  means  is  tall,  and  sightly  enough ;  good 
knee-up  action  too — steps  out  well — must  have  gone  over  the 
ground  when  he  was  younger,  I  should  think." 

"  Oh,  that ! — that's  Murray  of  Brierly, — x\lciphron  Murray, 
a  friend  of  the  family." 

"  Humph  !  don't  approve  of  them  there  friends  of  the jamili/. 
If  no  followers  hain't  allowed  below  stairs,  I  don't  see  why  they 
should  be  above  stairs  ;  and  these  friends  of  the  family  as  they 
calls  themselves,  hain't  nothink  helse ;  hocly  they  goes  hup  the 
front  stairs,  instead  of  down  the  hairy  steps ;  but,  for  hevery 
think  helse,  its  hegzacly  the  same  ;  they  is  always  a-ferre ting- 
out,  and  a-poking-their-noses  hinto  hevery  think — a-lurching, 
and  a-poaching  like,  on  bother  gents'  beats." 

"  Oh  I  but  Murray,  of  Brierly,  ain't  one  of  that  sort,"  kindly 
interposed  Mr.  Railton  :  "  I  must  say,  he  be  quite  a  gentleman, 
and  a  real  friend  to  the  Panmuirs  ;  indeed,  it  is  said,  that  in 
his  young  days  there  were  some  love  passages  bet\veen  him  and 
the  great  Perth  beauty,  Mary  Dunbar — Miss  Edith's  mother; 
but  the  Panmuir  was  thought  a  better  match  for  her.  To  him 
she  married  ;  and,  during  her  life-time,  the  Laird  of  Brierly  was 
always  beyond  seas,  and  never  came  to  Glenfern  ;  but  since  her 
death,  he  has  hovered  round  the  place,  as  an  eagle  does 
round  a  nest  of  eaglets,  when  some  mishap  has  befallen  the 
mother  bird." 

I  turned  away  faint  and  sick  ;  for  there  is  something  appal- 
ling in  finding  the  holiest  secrets  of  one's  life,  which  one  has 


'     26  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

lie'pt  veiled,  as  it  were,  even  from  oneself,  thus  suddenly  dese- 
crated and  bared,  in  the  garish  light  of  day,  to  every  vulgar 
scrutiny.  I  gnashed  my  teeth  in  very  bitterness  ;  for  it  seemed 
as  if  my  guardian  angel  must  have  given  up  his  garrison,  be- 
fore HER  name  could  have  been  so  sacrilegiously  torn  from  the 
innermost  sanctuary  of  my  heart,  to  find  utterance  in  this  man's 
mouth  !  Poor  fool !  that  I  was,  not  to  remember  that  even 
desolation  has  its  gauds,  and  that  these  memories  of  the  past 
are  the  bright  green  mosses  growing  on  the  ruins  of  our  hopes, 
which  tempt  every  passer-by  to  probe  at,  and  uproot  them  !  When 
the  sharp  agony  of  this  paroxysm  had  subsided,  I  pushed  self 
back  into  its  citadel,  and  securing  my  soul  with  stronger  bars  of 
endurance,  I  turned  to  Edith — for  even  change  of  suft'ering,  when 
we  cannot  get  rid  of  suffering  altogether,  is  a  relief.  It  was 
evident  to  me,  from  what  had  fallen  from  the  clever  man's  clever 
groom,  that  the  vulture  had  marked  and  was  careering  round 
the  dove-cote.  It  seemed  as  plain  as  if  the  plan  of  attack  lay 
traced  before  me  on  a  chart,  that  the  f^ist  servant  had  been  set 
to  pump  the  slow  and  more  simple  Railton  as  to  what  obstacles 
might  be  anticipated,  or  what  means  of  defence  existed.  I  was 
glad  I  had  overheard  this  much  ;  but,  besides  the  impossibility 
of  voluntarily  stooping  to  the  degrading  role  of  an  eaves-drop- 
per, my  head  swam  and  my  strength  deserted  me,  so  that  I 
could  have  no  longer  stood  in  the  passage  awaiting  Mrs.  Ver- 
ner's  return,  who  had  gone  to  see  if  Mr.  Jacob  Jacobs  felt  well 
enough  to  receive  a  visit  from  me.  I  therefore  turned  into  a 
little  sittiug-room,  on  the  right  hand,  opposite  the  bar,  where 
Kail  ton  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  groom  were  smoking,  and 
flung  myself  into  an  easy,  at  least  into  an  arm-chair;  where  I 
had  not  sat  long,  before,  from  the  open  garden-window,  a 
shadow  fell  across  the  floor,  accompanied  by  a  subdued  pant- 
ing, like  that  of  an  incipient  steam-engine ;  and  in  another 
moment  the  door  opened,  and  the  Archdeacon  entered,  removed 
his  shovel  hat,  and  having,  with  a  snow-white  cambric  hand- 
kerchief redolent  of  some  fragrant  odour  (which  it  is  to  be  sup- 


BEHIND    THE    SPENES.  27 

posed  was  that  of  sanctity),  wiped  the  dew,  not  exactly  of  Her- 
mon,  from  liis  brow,  he  extended  his  nlmost  equally  white 
hand,  as  he  said,  on  perceiving  me, — 

"  Ah  !  how  d'ye  do,  Murray  ?     When  did  you  return  ?  " 

"  Late  last  night." 

"Seen  Edith  yet?" 

"  No ;  I  shall  walk  over  to  Glenfern  after  dinner." 

"  For  that  matter,  you  can  have  a  seat  in  my  chaise.  Why 
not  come  over  and  dine  with  them  ?  I  promised  Mrs.  Dunbar 
to  do  so.  Poor  things !  it's  bad  for  them  to  be  left  too  much 
to  themselves." 

"  Thank  you  ; — no,  not  to-day  ;  for  I  have  ordered  dinner 
here." 

"  x\h  I  well,  as  you  please ;  but  the  '  Panmuir  Arms '  has  no 
such  Burgundy  as  the  Glenfern  cellars ;  and,  considering  how 
soon  it  may  pass  into  the  hands  of — Heaven  knows  who,  it  is 
a  pity  not  to  drink  it  while  it  is  to  be  had." 

I  smiled  at  this  amiable  and  considerate  precaution,  as  I  re- 
plied, that  I  was  also  waiting  to  see  the  poor  Jew,  who  was  ly- 
ing ill  above  stairs, 

"  Oh !  well  now,  really ! "  cried  the  reverend  gentleman, 
reddening  with  virtuous  indignation,  much  after  the  fashion  of 
a  turkey-cock  under  a  more  ignoble  sentiment,  "  I  cannot  con- 
ceive how  you  can  tolerate,  much  less  encourage  such  people ; 
and  a  Jew  broker^  too ! — the  very  worst  of  this  accursed  race  ! — 
a  set  who  live  upon  the  spoils  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan, 
and  who,  like  their  prototype,  the  devil,  literally  go  about,  up 
and  down,  seeking  whom  they  may  devour.  Bad  as  he  pre- 
tends to  be,  I've  no  doubt  he'll  be  quite  up  to  having  every- 
thing knocked  down  to  him  for  a  mere  song,  at  the  sale  at 
Glenfern." 

'"  In  that  respect,  my  dear  sir,  I  don't  see  that  he  would  be 
any  worse  than  the  most  orthodox  Christians ;  for  all  persons 
professedly  attend  sales  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  bargains, 
and  I  even  heard  you  yourself  express  a  wish  that  that  mag- 


28  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

nificent  altar-table,  and  the  chairs  which  poor  Donald  had  in- 
tended—" 

"  Oh  !  that,"  interrupted  the  Canon,  stopping  me  with  a 
waive  of  his  hand,  "is  another  affair:  of  course,  a  man  must 
be  a  fool  Avho  don't  try  to  get  as  much  as  he  can  for  his 
money." 

"  The  very  principle,  my  dear  sir,  upon  which  the  Israelites 
act." 

"  Principle  !  principle,  indeed  ! — a  Jew  with  principle ! 
Ah !  well ! — yes,  if  they  only  stuck  to  the  principle,  no  one 
would  blame  them ;  but  it's  the  interest ! — confound  them — 
that  they  take."  And  the  reverend  gentleman  paced  the  room, 
fillipped  his  fingers,  and  altogether  enunciated  with  such  high- 
pressure  vehemence,  that  a  mere  worldly-minded  and  secular 
spectator  might  have  been  hurried  to  the  erroneous  conclusion 
that  he  spoke  even  more  from  personal  pique  than  from  general 
philanthropy. 

"  Alas !  my  dear  sir,  I  fear  it  is  not  only  in  monetary  trans- 
actions, but  in  all  our  worldly  affaii-s,  that  interest  interferes  so 
terribly,  and  often  so  fatally,  with  principle." 
-  The  Reverend  Samuel  Panmuir  suddenly  came  to  a  full 
stop  in  his  peripatetics;  looked  at  me  with  an  obliquity  of 
glance  that  made  an  admirable  ocular  note  of  interrogation,  the 
purport  of  which  was — ^''  Do  you  mean  that  at  me^  sir?''^ — and 
then,  apparently  having  answered  the  query  to  his  own  satis- 
faction, he  as  suddenly  resumed  his  walk,  making,  however, 
another  pause  at  the  bell,  and  declaring  it  was  so  hot,  that  he 
must  have  some  sherry  and  soda  water;  saying  which,  he 
walked  to  the  door,  and  putting  his  head  into  the  passage,  and 
calling  "  Railton,"  ordered  the  soda-water  and  his  carriage  to  be 
got  ready  at  one  and  the  same  time.  In  less  than  ten  minutes 
the  latter  was  at  the  door :  and  its  owner  had  scarcely  waived 
his  hand  in  token  of  adieu,  saying, — 

"  Well  then,  I'll  tell  them  they  may  expect  you  after  dinner 
at  Glenfern?"— 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  29 

And  driven  off  as  soon  as  I  liad  nodded  an  assent,  before 
Mrs.  Verner  re-appeared,  twitching  her  fingers  with  accelerated 
speed ;  an  infalHble  sign  that  her  humour  had  not  improved 
since  our  recent  conference  in  the  churchyard. 

"Hoot  Maister  Alciphroon,"  said  she,  "I  beg  ye  a  lent  of 
paredons  jist,  for  leaving  ye  looming  aboot  here  a'  this  uncoo 
lang  time ;  but  gin  it  had  been  a  month  o'  Sundays,  I'd  ha 
waited  till  I'd  seen  the  back  o'  that  fat  Pharisee,  as  I  did  na 
want  to  hear  ony  of  his  unfeeling  jibes.  I  ken  very  weel  lang 
syne,  that  there's  nae  pitting  feeling  into  them  that  the  de'il 
has  taken  it  oot  o' ;  but  if  they  cannot  compassionate,  they 
should  nae  insult  people's  misfortunes,  for  they  dinna  ken  hoo 
soon  it  may  be  their  ain  turn  to  gang  to  the  wall ;  for  Fortune 
is  a  sorry  jade  at  best,  wha  often  flengs  those  she  trots  the 
Ifighest  wi'." 

"  Very  true,  my  good  Mrs.  Verner  ;  and,  therefore,  unlike 
the  rest  of  her  sex,  her  caprice  is  her  greatest  virtue,  for  but  for 
it,  there  would  be  but  little  or  no  retributive  justice  on  this  side 
the  grave." 

''  Ah  !  weel — true,  true !  mair  is  the  pity,  but  I  jist  waited 
to  see  the  flitting  o'  Sammy  Panmuir,  to  cam  and  tell  ye,  that 
the  puir  chiel  upstairs  will  be  mickle  glad  to  see  you.  Eh  !  but 
it's  a  thoosand  pities  jist  that  he's  nae  a  Christian,  for  it  seems 
to  me  as  if  he  hod  plenty  o'  the  right  true  stuff  in  him  to  make 
one." 

"  Cannot  you,"  said  I,  as  I  followed  this  worthy  w^oman  up- 
stairs, to  the  sick  man's  room,  "get  him  a  step  beyond  King 
Agrippa,  and  quite  persuade  him  to  be  one  ? " 

"  Wa'd  to  the  Laird  that  I  could,  and  a  far  greater  credit  too 
to  ony  kirk,  militant  or  itherwise,  thon  sic  a  puffed  up  popin- 
jay as  Sammy  Panmuir,  wha  has  not  above  ain  baubee's  worth 
of  Christianity,  if  he  ha  that  same,  to  twenty  tons  of  pride  and 
hypocrisy  ? " 

"  I  hope  at  all  events,  Mrs.  Verner,"  said  I,  as  we  stopped 
before  Mr.  Jacob  Jacobs'  door,  "  that  that  is  below  J^^'oof,  if  no- 
thing else  at  the  Panmuir  Arms  is?" 


30  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"Nac  a  bit  o'  it,  Murray,  nae  a  bit  o'  it;  and  the  de'il,  as 
head  o'  the  excise,  for  a'  sic  illicit  spirits,  is  welcome  to  guage 
him  as  soon  as  possible,  and  the  sooner  the  better,"  laughed  the 
hostess. 

"  Nay,  friend  Amy,  that  speech  is  unworthy  of  so  good  a 
woman." 

"  Like  enoo',  Murray,  for  it's  nae  possible  to  fit  avery  ane 
wi'  the  same  cap  ;  but  it's  a  capital  coif  for  Sammy  Panmuir, 
so  ye  mun  aye  let  him  wear  it." 

The  knock  at  the  bedroom  door,  which  accompanied  this 
last  speech,  having  been  answered  by  a  "  Come  in,"  from  its  in- 
mate, we  entered,  and  found  the  invalid  sitting  in  an  easy  chair, 
by  the  open  window  ;  his  left  arm  only  in  a  sling  ;  and  his  face, 
which  was  a  singularly  mild  and  benevolent  one,  with  not  much 
of  the  Hebrew  type  in  it  either,  bearing  no  greater  marks  of  h?s 
recent  accident,  than  a  more  than  ordinary  degree  of  pallor  and 
languor.  He  made  an  effort  to  rise  on  our  entrance,  which  I 
of  com-se  jDrevented;  and  then  drawing  a  chair  near  to  his, 
after  condoling  with  him  upon  his  accident,  I  asked  him  if  he 
had  been  on  his  way  to  attend  the  sale  at  Glenfern,  when  it 
had  occurred." 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  for  at  the  time  the  Perth  coach  overturned, 
I  was  not  aware  there  was  to  be  such  a  sale,  but  now,  as  I  om 
here,  and  it  is  to  take  place  next  week,  I  shall  certainly  remain 
for  it ;  for,  thanks  to  my  good  friend  Mrs.  Verner's  admirable 
nursing,  I  feel  I  shall  be  quite  myself  by  the  time  it  takes  place. 
Dear  me !  what  a  very  melancholy  way  the  poor  young  laird 
came  to  his  death, — out  on  a  party  of  pleasure,  I  understand,  at 
some  rowing  match  ;  and  so  near  his  coming  of  age  too  ;  really 
I  don't  know  when  I  have  heard  anything  more  lamentable, 
more  grievously  distressing ! " 

1  passed  my  hand  over  my  eyes,  as  the  image  of  poor  young 
Donald — one  moment  in  all  the  pride  of  youth  and  beauty,  and 
fresh  with  budding  hopes,  and  the  next  a  {)al^-8orse,  no  longer 
on  but  in  the  earth — rose  up  before  me. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  31 

"Pardon  me,  sir,  I  distress  you?"  said  the  Israelite. 

"  No,  not  you ;  but  it  was  a  terrible  blow  to  come  upon  a 
family  without  any  warning." 

"  And  yet,"  rejoined  Jacobs,  "  though  no  believer  in  second- 
sight  myself,  or  even  in  omens,  those  two  circumstances  loere 
very  extraordinary." 

"What  two  circumstances?"  said  I,  looking  from  the  last 
speaker  to  Mrs.  Verner. 

"  Eh  !  weel,  ye  see,  Murray,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  never  told 
you  for  twa  re^isons ;  first,  for  fear  o'  feshing  ye,  and  next,  be- 
cause ye  nae  believe  in  them  sort  of  forerunnei's." 

'•  What  forerunners  ?  If  you  mean  presentiments,"  said  I, 
with  a  sigh,  "  I  fear  I  only  believe  too  much  in  them." 

"  Nae,  nae ;  I  mean  secondsight,  and  supernatural  occur- 
rences, and  sic  like  ;  and  beUeve  it  or  not,  Murray,  but  the  vary 
day  the  young  laird  was  drooned  at  the  English  College,  as 
Meggie  Armstrong  w^as  crossing  the  drawbridge,  what  should 
she  see  but  the  young  laird's  wraith  dragged  oot  of  the  moat, 
pale  as  death,  and  wringing  wet;  and  she  ran  shrieking  into 
the  hoose,  telling  what  she'd  seen ;  and  all  their  care  was  to 
keep  the  fotal  news  from  puir  Miss  Edith,  for  they  knew^  then 
the  young  laird  was  dead.  But  they  might  hae  saved  them- 
selves the  trouble,  for  that  very  same  day  and  hour,  as  she  was 
walking  by  the  lake  in  noonday,  the  sun  high  in  the  heavens, 
not  a  breath  of  air,  nor  a  ripple  on  the  waters,  doon  falls  up- 
rooted, as  if  by  magic !  a  giant  oak;  not  one  of  the  old,  hol- 
low-trunked  ones  either,  but  a  young,  green,  sturdy  tree,  full  of 
life  and  sap.  Nor  was  this  all :  between  some  of  the  top 
branches,  which  fell  towards  Miss  Edith,  was  a  bird's  nest,  from 
which  the  auld  birds  were  flown,  and  a'  the  eggs  bra'ken  in  the 
fall,  and  from  which,  hooever  it  came  there,  floating  like  a  death- 
flag,  was  a  rag  o'  black  crape.  Noo,  Muiray,  what  say  you  to 
that?  For  ye  ken  weel  the  legend  of  the  Panmuirs,  that 
whenever  the  head  of  the  family  is  ganging  ta  dee,  a  tree  is 
sure  to  fall;  we  hae  seen  it  oorsels  wi'  ^jm generations,  and  this 
ane  makes  a  third." 


32  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

I  saw  in  it,  indeed,  more  than  I  cared  to  own ;  for  in  the 
ruined  nest,  with  the  ominous  black  signal  fluttering  from  it,  I 
foresaw  poor  Edith's  yet  unacted  portion  of  the  tragedy !  A 
shudder  ran  through  me  ;  but  I  made  no  answer.  Apparently 
the  former  w\as  more  satisfactory  to  Mrs.  Verner,  who  said, — 

"  Eh !  weel,  I'm  glad  to  see  ye  believe  in  these  telegraphs 
from  the  land  o'  the  Lile  at  last." 

Not  caring  to  let  the  good  woman  see  the  extent  of  the  im- 
pression her  legend  of  the  fallen  tree  had  made  upon  me,  I 
turned  to  the  invalid,  and  entered  into  general  conversation  with 
him  ;  and  a  most  intelligent,  well-informed,  liberal-minded  per- 
son I  found  him.  Benevolent,  without  any  of  the  cant  of  bene- 
volence, which,  next  to  that  of  piety,  is  the  most  offensive,  be- 
cause the  most  contradictory  of  all ;  for  the  same  reason  that 
"  good  wnne  needs  no  bush,"  true  philanthropy  and  genuine 
piety  need  no  jargon  ;  for,  where  the  reality  exists,  the  ostenta- 
tious insignias  of  them  are  superfluous :  all  genuine  feelings 
seek  and  find  a  vent  in  action^  rather  than  in  words.  It  is  not 
recorded  that  the  poor  sinful  woman  who  entered  into  the  Pha- 
risee's house,  uttered  one  word  either  of  repentance  or  of  suppli- 
cation ;'^we  are  merely  told  what  she  did — she  washed  the  Sa- 
viour's feet  with  her  tears,  dried  them  with  her  hair  and  her 
kisses,  and  gave  Him  the  most  precious  thing  she  possessed^ 
namely,  a  costly  unguent  out  of  an  alabaster  box — so  costly 
that  the  more  self-righteous  and  greater  professors  of  the  lav/ 
marvelled,  and  murmured  at  her  extravagance  I  They  did  so  then, 
and  would  do  so  tenfold  now  !  But  hear  the  words  of  Christ ; 
and  judge  how  He  appreciated  the  deed  above  the  word  : — 

"  And  Jesus  answering^  said  unto  him,  Simon,  I  have  some- 
what to  say  unto  thee.     And  he  saith.  Master,  say  on. 

"  There  was  a  certain  creditor  which  had  tivo  debtors  :  the 
one  owed  him  five  hundred  2Jencc,  and  the  other  ffty. 

'•''And  ivhen  they  had  nothing  to  XKiy,  he  frankly  forgave 
them  both.  Tell  me,  therefore,  ivhich  of  them  will  love  him 
most  ? 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  33 

"  Simon  answered  and  said,  I  supjjose  that  He  to  whom  he 
forgave  most.  And  He  said  unto  him,  thou  hast  rightly 
judged. 

'^  And  He  turned  to  the  ivoman,  and  said  unto  Simon,  seest 
thou  this  woman  ?  I  entered  into  this  house  ;  thou  gavest  me 
no  luater  for  my  feet :  hut  she  hath  washed  my  feet  loith  tears, 
and  willed,  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head. 

"  Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss  :  but  this  woman  since  the  time  I 
came  in,  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet. 

"  3fy  head  loith  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint  :  hut  this  looman 
ha  tlb  anointed  my  feet  vnth  ointment. 

"  Wherefore  I  say  unto  thee,  her  sins  which  are  many,  arc 
forgiven  ;  for  she  loved  muchr 

And  to  go  from  sacred  to  profane  history,  Curtius  did  not 
tcdk  patriotism  to  the  Roman  people,  but  devoted  himself  to  the 
Manes  by  plunging  into  the  mysterious  gulf, — and  thus,  for  the 
good  of  his  country,  stopping  the  f;ital  gap  in  the  Forum  ; 
instead  of  pointing  out,  and  expatiating  upon,  in  interminable 
harangues,  the  other  non-forthcomiiig  individual  who  should 
have  done  so.  These  thoughts  were  suggested  to  me  by  se\eral 
facts — not  sentiments — which  had  fallen  from  tlj,e  Israelite,  in 
the  course  of  conversation  ;  and  caused  me  to  be  of  x\my  Ver- 
ners  opinion,  that  it  was  a  pity,  his  virtues  being  Christian,  the 
man  was  not  so  likewise.  I  could  have  sat  with  him  much 
longer,  even  at  the  risk  of  fatiguing  him,  had  not  my  dinner 
been  announced.  After  which  I  had  to  walk  to  Glcnfern.  I 
had  purposely  delayed  doing  so  till  the  evening,  for  I  could  not 
bear  to  look  upon  so  much  sorrow  in  broad  daylight.  I  there- 
fore rose,  and  took  my  leave  of  Jacob  Jacobs,  shaking  him 
cordially  by  the  hand,  and  volunteering  to  repeat  my  visit  on 
the  following  day, — if  he  would  not  deem  it  an  intrusion  ;  but 
he  having  negatived  the  latter  clause,  and  frankly  accepted  my 
proposition,  I  descended  to  my  solitary  meal,  which  in  the 
present  instance  was  more  a  matter  of  form  than  necessity  ;  for 
appetite  I  had  none,  though  surrounded  by  all  the  allurements 


34  BEHIND    THE    SCENES, 

of  one  of  Mrs.  Verner's  epicurean  little  dinners  ;  for  among  her 
other  sterling  good  qualities,  she  possessed  the  most  requisite 
and  attractive,  though,  alas !  now-a-days  the  most  neglected  of 
female  attributes,  that  of  being  an  excellent  housewife,  which  is 
a  sort  of  domestic  magic  wand,  that  when  skilfully  wielded 
dispels  all  the  chill,  dreary  miasmas  of  disorder  and  provision- 
spoiling,  and  raises  up  in  their  stead,  a  fairy  land  of  comfort 
and  well-beinir. 


Cljc  |dir  aiiir  tije  (Snitik. 

SECTIOX  IL 

•       THE    HOUSE    OF    MOURNING. 
"Teach  mc  to  do  thy  Mill."— P5.  cxliii.  10. 

Leaving  ibe  "  Panmuir  Arms  "  as  the  shades  of  evening  had 
riung  their  mourning  mantle  of  twilight  over  the  heretofore  joyous 
and  smiling  landscape,  I  turned  down  the  glen  that  led  to  the 
moated  house,  as  Glenfern  was  called  by  the  peasantry.  The 
heather  with  Avhich  it  was  carpeted,  was  as  soft  and  elastic  as 
ever;  there  seemed  neither  death,  nor  dearth  to  dim  its  free, 
wild,  fresh,  eternal,  ever-springing  youth ;  and  as  the  night- 
wind  tossed  its  purple  flowers  buoyantly,  now  high,  now  low,  in 
mimic  waves  across  the  sward,  they  floated  with  the  proud 
and  bysine  grace  of  a  young  monarch's  regal  robes.  Oh,  great 
mystery  of  heaven !  and  sad,  sad  antithesis  of  earth !  why 
must  every  passing  hour  bring  forth  its  twins  of  Life  and 
Death  ? 

No  marriage-bell  rings  merrily  out,  but  on  the  self-same 
gale  must  toll  another's  dirge ;  and  for  every  side  that  laughter 
splits,  sorrow  breaks  some  aching  heart !  and  yet  when  all 
seems  the  work  of  a  beneficent  being,  how  account  for  this 
compulsory  want  of  sympathy  throughout  creation  ?  How, 
indeed  ! — unless  that  all  things  here  below  are  for  a  stated  time 
under  the  iron  yoke  of  that  most  fell  of  all  tyrants.  Necessity ; 


36  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  that  at  all  events,  it  is  not  for  us,  the  creatures,  to  criticise 
the  antilogy  of  the  Creator.  As  I  walked  on,  the  gloom  of 
Jiiy  own  thoughts,  deepening  faster  than  that  6f  the  evening,  I 
felt  disposed  to  quarrel  with  every  sound,  however  distant,  that 
broke  the  solemn  and  respectful  silence,  which  appeared  to  me, 
ought  to  environ  that  now  desolate  house.  Even  the  lowing  of 
the  cattle,  and  the  cow-boy's  whistle,  as  they  came  across  the 
glen,  annoyed  me.  I  quickened  my  pace  to  get  beyond  their 
reach,  but  when  I  arrived  at  the  iron  gates,  beyond  the  draw- 
bridge, I  had  not  courage  to  ring  the  bell ;  for  at  all  times  there 
was  something  startling  in  its  deep  tone,  and  now  it  would  have 
sounded  through  the  dark  and  hollow  stillness  of  that  silent 
house,  like  a  summons  to  the  dead. 

So  I  turned  away,  and  directed  my  steps  to  a  secluded 
spot,  appropriately  called  the  Wilderness,  where  was  situated 
the  mausoleum  of  the  Panmuirs,  of  which  poor  Donald  was 
now  the  last^  inmate.  For  many  years,  the  rank  luxuriance  of 
the  weeds  had  been  left  perfectly  and  purposely  undisturbed, 
and  the  sarcophagus  had  been  built  between  two  gigantic  yew- 
trees,  of  enormous  girth,  said  to  be  thirteen  hundred  years  old; 
and  as  that  is  but  a  small  span  of  life  among  the  dead,  it  is 
very  likely  to  have  been  the  case.  Thei-e  was  also,  as  in  the 
old  Saxon  burying-grounds,  a  lych  gate  under  which  every 
corpse  passed,  and  between  the  j^illars  of  which  it  trysted,  prior 
to  proceeding  to  its  last  resting-place. 

I  had  now  reached  this  gate;  it  was  a  modern  antique, 
quite  out  of  character  with  the  rest  of  the  place,  and  therefore 
in  bad  taste  ;  for  harmony  in  all  things — living,  or  inanimate 
— silent,  or  vocal — alone  constitutes  beauty ;  and  this  arch  was 
of  the  pompous  classic,  supported  by  two  Corinthian  capitals ; 
for  Stuart  Panmuir,  Edith's  grandfather,  had  lived  with  Prince 
Charlie  (for  he  was  no  Pretender,  so  we  will  not  style  him 
such)  at  Florence,  and  Ptome,  till  the  death  of  the  latter ;  and 
had  returned  home  with  a  classic  fever,  and  Pontine  ague,  from 
which  the  poor  old  place  at  Glenfern  would  have  suftered  con- 


BEHIND    THK    SCENES.  37 

siderably,  had  not  Death,  that  great  reader  ot"  all  hiiiuan  riot 
acts,  put  a  stop  to  his  proceedings,  just  as  the  above-mentioned 
arch  was  completed, the  capitals  of  ^Yhose  pillars  were,  however, 
both  redeemed  and  embellished  by  the  finest  real  acanthus  I 
have  ever  seen  out  of  Syria,  or  Greece  ;  for  it  was  the  very — 
not  abomination,  but — luxuriance  of  desolation.  As  I  waded 
through  the  dank  and  tangled  grass,  I  suddenly  felt  a  cotmter- 
acting  movement  within  it,  which  caused  it  to  knot  in  eddies, 
as  it  were,  around  my  ancles,  and  greatly  impeded  my  progress. 
Had  I  been  either  in  a  prairie,  or  a  wigwam,  I  should,  from  the 
strange,  creeping  advance  of  some  living  thing,  most  assuredly 
have  anticipated  the  approach  of  a  serpent ;  and  as  it  was,  I 
was  by  no  means  sure  that  it  was  not  something  of  the  sort, 
under  the  milder  phase  of  a  snake.  Influenced  by  this  impres- 
sion, which  was  every  instant  becoming  stronger,  I  hastily  seized, 
and  broke  off,  a  stout  branch  of  cypress,  as  the  only  weapon 
within  my  reach  ;  and  stood  on  the  defensive,  awaiting  tlie  ex- 
pected foe  ;  when  lo  !  by  the  pale  light  of  the  just-rising  moon 
— as  its  rays  streamed  athwart  the  dense  foliage  of  the  sur- 
rounding funeral  trees — I  perceived  that  a  way  was  cleft 
through  the  grass,  though  not  by  me ;  and  that  which  I  had 
mistaken  for  a  wily  reptile,  turned  out  to  be  an  honest,  fjiithful 
dog — even  the  faithful  greyhound  of  poor  Donald  Panmuir. 
The  animal  continued  to  crouch  till  he  came  close  to  me,  and 
then  gently  lifted  up  his  head,  without  uttering  a  sound,  and 
licked  my  hand,  while  he  trembled  violently. 

"  Poor  Eos  !  poor  fellow  I"  said  I,  first  patting  his  head,  and 
then,  as  I  took  one  of  his  icy-cold  trembling  ears  in  each  of  my 
hands,  stooping  down  to  kiss  the  good  creature  for  his  human 
sense,  and  more  than  human  love — "So,  my  poor  dog,  the 
great  archer's  shaft  has  come  even  unto  you,  and  there's  not  a 
bound  or  a  bark  left  in  you  ;  but  we  must  bear  it,  my  man,  we 
must  bear  it.  We  are  all  born  to  reverses,  Eos,  but  such  as  I 
am,  I'll  be  your  friend,  and  you  shall  be  mine.  We  both  loved 
poor  Donald  well,  and  that  shall  be  the  first  bund  between  you 
and  I." 


38  BEHIND    THE    SCENES, 

At  the  mention  of  his  master's  name,  the  poor  animal 
sprang  up,  and  put  his  paws  on  my  shoulders,  and  for  the  first 
time  uttered  a  low  moan,  as  the  next  moment  he  relaxed  his 
embrace,  and  again  crouched  down  tremblingly  at  my  feet,  thus 
saying  plainly,— 

"  Oh,  no,  you  are  very  kind,  but  you  are  not  he." 

"No,  my  poor  fellow,  I  am  not,"  said  I,  replying  to  tha 
dog's  thought,  which  his  dumb  show  had  so  forcibly  and  touch- 
ingly  expressed ;  "  but  I  was  his  friend,  and  will  be  yours^  so 
rouse  up,  and  come  with  me  to  the  house,  or  else  we  shall  find 
the  garden-gate  locked." 

So  saying,  I  walked  on  a  few  steps,  whistling  Eos  after  me ; 
but  instead  of  following,  he  rose  up,  and  looked  wistfully  in  the 
opposite  direction ;  at  length,  however,  he  came  after  me,  but 
it  was  only  to  pull  mc  by  the  skirts  of  my  coat,  and  forcibly  in- 
sist upon  my  going  his  way,  instead  of  his  coming  mine  ;  and 
his  way  was  towards  the  little  chapel,  in  front  of  which  was  the 
mausoleum,  and  both  were  at  the  other,  or  eastern  extremity  of 
the  wilderness. 

"  Well,  Eos,"  said  I,  finding  he  persisted  in  his  eftbrts  to 
draw  me  the  other  way,  "  as  in  all  partnerships  there  should  be 
mutual  concessions,  I  will  not  begin  ours  by  thwarting  you,  and 
refusing  your  first  request."  And  with  this  I  turned  back,  and 
the  dog,  after  having  licked  my  hand,  and  given  a  little  whine 
of  satisfaction,  darted  forward  with  a  bound,  but  soon  slacken- 
ing his  pace,  kept  turning  back  every  now  and  then  to  see  that 
I  followed.  I  began  to  ponder  what  his  meaning  could  be,  and 
concluded  that  it  was  a  piece  of  canine  sentiment;  and  that 
feeling  he  had  too  much  giief  for  one  poor  heart  to  bear,  he 
wanted  me  to  come  and  help  him  to  mourn  at  his  master's 
grave  ;  but  on  arriving  at  the  mausoleum,  I  soon  became  aware 
of  the  sagacious  creature's  real  motive  in  bringing  me  thither, 
for  the  dooi's  were  open  (an  unusual  circumstance),  and  by  the 
faint  ghmmering  sepulchral  light  of  the  suspended  lamp,  whicli 
alwavs   burnt  within,  I  beheld   the  form  of  Edith  Panmuir, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  39 

thrown,  in  an  agony  of  grief,  across  lier  brother's  coffin.  The 
rusthng  of  my  footsteps  among  the  dried  leaves  and  long  grass, 
as  I  approached,  roused  her,  and  she  started  up,  leaning  on  one 
elbow,  and  looked  wildly  around,  like  a  deer  at  bay.  At 
length,  perceiving  that  it  was  me,  she  sprang  forward,  and  con- 
vulsively seizing  both  my  arms,  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Murray,  come  at  last;  thank  God.  Oh,  tell 
me  that  he  is  not  dead,  that  it  is  all  false — a  horrid  mockery — 
a  bad  jest,  invented  by  cruelty,  and  prepetrated  by  folly,  to  pre- 
vent my  being  too  much  overjoyed  at  seeing  Donald  again. 
Yes,  yes  ;  you  heard  in  Edinburgh  that  he  was  not  dead  ;  is  it 
not  so  ?  Tell  me,  tell  me  quickly,  if  you  don't  w^ant  to  kill  me 
too,  Alciphron." 

As  she  hurriedly  gasped  out  these  wild  fitful  words,  she 
kept  passing  her  hands  searchingly  over  my  coat,  as  if  she 
thought  I  had  brought  back  with  me  from  my  short  journey, 
some  precious  talisman  that  was  to  assure  her  of  her  brother's 
existence ;  but  poor  soul !  finding  nothing — what  else  does 
misery  ever  find  ? — she  again  almost  shrieked  as  her  head  fell 
upon  my  shoulder, — 

"Murray ;  I  charge  you  to  end  this  shameful  mockery;  and 
tell  me  quickly  that  Donald  lives  !  " 

"  Yes,  dear  Edith,  he  does  indeed  live  !  and  that  freed  from 
all  the  change — the  chance  —  the  sin — the  sorrow — of  this 
wretched  life,"  sighed  I,  as  I  at  length  succeeded  in  arresting 
within  my  grasp  her  small  burning  hands. 

"I  knew  it!"  cried  she,  with  aloud  hysterical  laugh — her 
poor  wandering  brain  having  seized  the  sound  of  the  first  sen- 
tence I  had  uttered  without  its  import ;  but  the  illusion  was  a 
merciful  one,  and  gave  a  happy  turn  to  her  delirium,  for  she 
was  in  a  high  fever.  Possessed  Dy  the  erroneous  idea  that  her 
biother  still  lived  in  tJm  world,  I  had  now  no  difficulty  in  lead- 
ing her  away  from  his  grave  towards  the  house  ;  aijd  having 
locked  the  door  of  the  mausoleum,  and  put  the  key  in  my  pocket, 
I  led  or  rather  dragged  Iier  forward,  with  one  arm  around  her. 


40  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

waist,  for  she  could  not  have  supported  herself;  her  wild  laugh, 
and  still  wilder  plans  for  welcoming  poor  Donald  back  to  Glen- 
fern,  wringing  my  heart,  till  my  own  brain  almost  reeled  under 
the  ordeal.  Poor  Eos  followed,  his  ears  back,  and  his  tail  down, 
with  his  whole  weight  of  honest  grief  sinking  deeper  and  deeper 
into  his  dog's  heart,  without  even  a  febral  illusion  to  lighten  it. 
When  we  reached  the  lych  gate  the  moon  had  surmounted 
every  cloud,  and  shone  out  in  all  her  splendour. 

"  See,  see  ! "  cried  Edith,  suddenly  stopping,  and  raising  her 
head  from  my  shoulder,  as  she  pointed  up  at  it ;  "  how  bright 
and  beautiful !  they  are  making  everything  for  Donald  ;  dead, 
indeed  ! — oh,  but  it  was  a  cruel  jest ;  but  never  mind,  it's  over 
now,  and  they  can't  prevent  his  coming — no! — no! — "// 
reviendra  deinain  !  "  And  she  warbled  out  in  her  exquisitely 
clear,  silvery,  and  touching  voice,  that  pretty  and  most  pathetic 
of  French  romances  which  bears  the  name  of  those  words ;  and 
then  seizing  a  branch  of  cypress  upon  which  the  dew-drops  in 
the  moonlight  sparkled  like  diamonds,  she  wreathed  it  round 
her  hair,  saying — 

"  Ah  !  this  is  what  I  must  wear ;  no  roses  for  me,  for  Don- 
ald always  puts  ivy  in  my  hair ;  he  says  he  likes  green  and  gold 
— gold  !  gold  !  Oh  !  how  fine  I  shall  be  to-morrow  !  car — "  II 
reviendra  demain/^^ 

And  as  she  sang,  she  l6t  down  her  magnificent  hair,  which 
indeed  fell  in  showers  of  rippling  gold  about  her  shoulders.  It 
was  difficult  to  tell  which  was  the  most  fearful ! — her  beauty  or 
her  insanity,  as  she  stood  there  in  her  black  dress,  and  her  radi- 
ant hair,  flowing  like  a  mantle  around  her,  beneath  that  pale 
pure  light,  and  within  that  solemn  arch — a  fitting  frame  for 
such  a  picture !     There  was  in  Edith  Panmuir 

• 

"A  blending  of  all  beauties." 

The  sculj'tor  who  studied  form  alone,  would  have  found  it  re- 
alized here  beyond  his  iiK)st  etherealized  ideal ;  and  the  paint- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  41 

er  who  sought  for  colouring  and  expression,  would  have  had 
his  very  "  Eureka  !  "  silenced  by  the  difficulty  of  selection — 
such  a  prodigality  was  there  of  both ;  while  the  lover ! — that 
always  magniloquent  incarnation  of  egotism,  who,  Narcissus-like, 
ever  seeks  the  reflection  of  his  own  image,  w^ould,  in  the  hyaline 
of  her  deep  nature,  have  found  an  element  sufficiently  pure  to 
mirror  back  the  softened  self  of  his  worship.  In  looking  at  her, 
admiration  hovered  like  a  bee,  from  the  beauty  of  one  feature 
to  that  of  another,  not  knowing  which  to  dwell  upon  as  the 
sweetest;  though  in  the  deep  violet  eyes  with  their  snowy  lids 
and  long  dark  lashes,  through  which  a  golden  ray  darted,  lay 
the  argument  of  that  sublime  epic,  her  face — a  face  which  if 
Praxiteles  might  have  modelled  the  outline,  Prometheus  had 
undoubtedly  dropped  the  spark  which  illumined  it.  Another 
and  rarer  lovehness  Edith  also  possessed,  which  was  an  enchant- 
ing expression  of  teeth,  as  well  as  of  mouth,  they  were  so  pearl- 
like, so  symmetrically  even,  and  so  exquisitely  arched  in  her 
head;  and  to  all  this  was  added  that  sow?  of  beauty — grace, 
without  which,  however  perfect  it  may  be  in  its  elements,  it  is 
after  all  but  an  unfinished,  unanimated  mass  of  clay.  Often 
when  I  had  contemplated  this 

"Fatal  gift  of  beauty," 

had  I  speculated  as  to  whose  prey  it  might  become,  for,  with 
the  rapidly  increasing  selfishness  of  men  and  the  crooked  con- 
ventionalities of  society,  the  woman — at  least  the  woman  en- 
dowed as  Edith  Panmuir  was — who  is  not  a  prey  to  some  ty- 
rant or  to  some  profligate — is  but  the  exception  that  proves  the 
rule ;  and  now,  as  I  gazed  with  a  riven  heart  upon  the  tempo- 
rary overthrow  of  the  light  within  which  lit  up  this  wondrous 
regalia  of  Nature's  diadem,  Beauty,  I  almost  doubted  if  it  would 
not  be  better,  that  it  should  become  permanent,  if  even  so  ap- 
palling an  alternative  could  save  her  from  the  other  and  worser 
fate.     xVt  length,  after  much  soothing  and  persuarsion,  I  got  her 


42  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

back  to  the  bouse,  but  rambling  wildly  all  the  way  about  the 
great  things  that  were  to  be  done  on  Donald's  return,  and  ex- 
claiming every  now  and  then — 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  happy !  too  happy  !  " 

I  did  not  doubt  it;  for  what  is  all  human  happiness  but  a 
temporary  delirium,  a  friendly  mirage,  which  by  inspiring  us 
with  a  little  false  hope,  gives  us  courage  to  push  on  through 
life's  desert,  towards  those  bright  waters  iifter  which  the  heart 
panteth,  but  which  ever  vanish  into  empty  air  at  our  approach. 

On  reaching  the  house,  I  found  Mina,  a  French  girl,  Edith's 
maid,  and  with  her  assistance,  got  her  up  stairs  to  her  bedroom  ; 
there  leaving  her,  I  despatched  a  man  and  horse  to  Perth  for 
Dr.  Mc  Alpine,  ordering  him,  though  it  was  a  long  twelve  miles, 
never  to  draw  bridle  till  he  arrived.  It  was  a  relief  to  me  to 
hear  that  the  Archdeacon  was  still  continuing  his  assiduities  to 
the  Panmuir  Burgundy,  that  was  soon  to  pass  into  the  hands 
of  the  Philistines  ;  for  I  was  in  no  mood  to  support  his  ortho- 
dox common-places,  or  the  cauterized  fortitude  with  which  he 
bore  the  bereavement  which  had  befallen  his  relatives.  There- 
fore, I  hurriedly  laid  my  hand  upon  old  Anderson,  the  butler's 
arm,  as  he  was  about  to  open  the  dining-room  door,  and  usher 
me  into  it. 

"  No,  no,"  said  I,  "  I've  seen  the  Archdeacon  this  morning ; 
where  is  Mrs.  Dunbar  ?  I'll  go  to  her." 

"Eh,  weel,  puir  soul,  she's  where  she  always  is,  wi'  her 
Bible,  in  the  little  oak  breakfast  room,  praying  God  to  help  her 
up  wi'  her  burden,  just,  for  ye  ken  weel  sir  thot  He  wha'  lays 
it  on,  can  alone  hft  it  off." 

"True,  Anderson;  and  it  is  a  blessing  to  think  that  she 
knows  this  too,  when  such  a  blight  has  fallen  upon  the  winter  of 
her  life,  poor  soul.     But  has  she  seen  no  one?" 

"  Eh,  weel,  yes,  they  baith  saw,  and  had  a  prachement  from 
his  Raverence  the  Archdeacon  this  afternune ;  and  it  was  after 
that  that  puir  Miss  Edith  took  on  sae,  and  made  awa  wi'  hersel 
to  the  Laird's  grave,  where  ye  found  her,  puir  chiel;  and  Mre. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 


Dunbar  has  done  nae  thing  but  flow  oot  at  the  een  lik  a  foun- 
tain just  aver  sin  his  Raverence  had  us  a'  up  ond  prached  to 
us." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  what  did  he  say,  so  to  have  added  to 
their  distress  ? " 

"  Eh,  sir,  ye  dinna  I  hop  tlienh^''  said  Anderson,  turning  his 
head  on  one  side,  and  extending  his  hands  in  a  deprecating 
manner  "that  the  likes  o'  me  wad  hae  the  presoomption  to  stick 
cop  my  capacity  into  thinking  it  cud  possibly  understand  what 
a  grand  gentlemon  like  his  Raverence  the  Archdeacon  wad  say ; 
but  ane  thing  he  made  plain  to  us  a',  which  was,  that  it  was 
just  for  a  judgment  upon  a'  oor  wickedness  that  God  hod  cut 
oft'  the  Young  Laird,  in  the  flower  of  his  youth  ;  and  then  to 
comfort  us  he  read  us  a'  the  damnatory  passages  oot  of  St.  Paul ; 
after  Avhicli,  he  left  us  to  dress  the  blister  for  oorsels  ;  puir  Mrs. 
Dunbar  tried  to  do  so,  wi'  a  little  healing  from  Christ,  which 
did  a'  the  rest  o'  us  a  warld  o'  good ;  but  his  Raverence  had  so 
probed  puir  Miss  Edith  to  the  quick  that  there  was  no  bringing 
her  to." 

As  I  followed  Anderson  to  the  little  oak  room,  I  saw  at  once 
how  the  matter  stood  ;  the  fact  was,  the  Archdeacon  was  a  sort 
of  clerical  San  Grado  ;  he  had  but  two  remedies  for  all  cases — 
bleeding  and  hot  water.  To  probe  every  wound  and  parboil 
every  hope,  w^as  his  grand  panacea ;  and  this  violent  practice 
he  treated  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  like  the  farrier  whom 
Sir  Walter  Scott  mentions,  as  having  set  up  for  a  physician, 
who  said  he  never  used  anything  but  simples^  to  wit,  "  laudemy 
and  calomtf  (laudanum  and  calomel) ;  and  it  was  very  evident, 
in  the  present  instance,  that  the  Reverend  gentleman's  theolo- 
gical laudemy  and  calomy  had  driven  a  poor  young  person  to 
the  vero-e  of  insanitv,  and  brou^jht  an  old  one  a  stance  nearer  to 
"  that  bourne  from  whence  no  traveller  returns." 

When  I  entered  the  breakftist  room,  the  poor  old  lady  was 
sitting  with  her  pale  placid  face  and  whilome  handsome  eyes 
fixed  on  an  open  page  of  the  large  family  Bible — the  Bible,  with 


44  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

its  embossed  black  leather  binding,  and  massive  silver  corners 
and  clasps,  in  which  for  the  last  three  hundred  years  the  birth 
and  death  of  every  Panmuir  of  Glenfern  had  been  recorded. 
One  tear,  and  one  only,  lingered  on  her  venerable  cheek — for 
the  tears  of  age,  like  those  of  childhood,  dry  quickly.  As  Time 
is  more  merciful  than  most  spoilers,  and  wheresoever  he  uproots 
a  blessing,  he  breathes  with  his  icy  breath  upon  the  vacuum, 
and  thus  sears  the  rent,  the  torture  of  which  would  otherwise 
be  insupportable.  Her  figure,  still  slight,  and  very  little  bent, 
considering  her  age,  looked  almost  shadowy  in  the  black  dress 
for  which  she  had  exchanged  her  usual  silver  gTcy  ;  but  she  still 
retained  the  clear  white  lawn  kerchief  she  always  wore  on  her 
shoulders,  pinned  in  a  point  at  the  back  of  her  waist,  and  a  coif 
of  the  same  material,  which  in  shape  was  a  sort  of  honorary 
widow's  cap,  and  harmonized  admirably  with  her  silver  hair. 
As  soon  as  I  had  closed  the  door,  she  extended  her  right  hand 
to  me  ;  and  removing  her  spectacles  with  the  other,  she  pointed 
with  them  to  a  verse  in  the  open  volume  before  her,  which  was 
the  second  of  Corinthians  vii.  G. 

"  God  that  comforteth  those  that  are  cast  down." 

"  Is  it  not  so,  Murray  ?  "  said  she,  in  a  broken  and  tremu- 
lous voice. 

"  Indeed  is  it,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  I,  briefly  ;  for  I  felt 
there  was  no  other  comfort  for  our  great  sorrow. 

"  And  yet,"  resumed  she,  almost  in  a  whisper,  as  if  she 
thought  there  was  something  impious  in  the  assertion  which 
forbade  its  being  uttered  aloud,  ''  He  has  cast  us  down  very  low, 
Alciphron."  On  the  table,  beside  the  Bible,  was  lying  a  volume 
of  sermons  and  a  little  viaticum  of  comfort  by  the  Rev.  James 
Smith,  entitled  "Daily  Bible  ReadiivGs  for  the  Lord's 
Household." 

My  heart  was  too  full  to  trust  my  own  words,  which  could 
but  echo  its  heaviness  ;  so  taking  up  this  invaluable  little  book, 
I  sat  down  beside  her,  and  answ^ered  her  from  it.  The  passage 
I  selected  was  headed  with  this  verse  from  Isaiah,  ix.  20  : — 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  45 

"  The  days  of  thy  mourniny  shall  he  endedr  And  then 
went  on  to  say  : — 

"  Here  we  have  much  to  cause  us  to  mourn  :  The  state  of 
the  world  and  of  the  church  ;  many  things  in  the  domes- 
tic circle ;  the  deep  depravity  of  our  own  hearts ;  our  evil  tem- 
pers and  passions ;  the  temptations  and  fiery  darts  of  Satan  ; 
the  losses,  crosses,  and  privations  which  we  are  called  upon  to 
endure ;  the  hiding  of  the  Lord's  face ;  the  want  of  brighter 
evidences ;  weakness  and  pain  of  body.  All  these  things  con- 
spire to  make  us  sorrowful ;  so  that  with  David,  we  sometimes 
say,  '  I  am  troubled  ;  I  am  bowed  down  greatly  ;  I  go  mourn- 
ing all  day  long.'  But  there  is  a  bright  prospect  before  us  ;  our 
mourning  season  will  soon  be  over :  if  we  now  sow  in  tears,  we 
shall  reap  in  joy.  The  days  of  our  mourning  will  soon  be 
ended.  Then  shall  we  have  hght  without  darkness,  holiness 
without  sin,  joy  without  sorrow,  service  without  toil,  the  eternal 
sunshine  of  our  Father's  love  without  an  intervening  cloud. 
We  shall  soon  shed  the  last  tear,  breathe  the  last  sigh,  utter 
the  last  groan,  express  the  last  wish,  and  feel  the  last  pain,  and 
then  all  beyond  will  be  holiness,  happiness,  and  perfect  blessed- 
ness." 

"  A  few  more  days,  or  months,  or  years, 
In  this  (lark  desert  to  eomi^lain ; 
A  few  more  sighs,  a  few  more  tears, 
And  we  shall  bid  adieu  to  pain." 

"  Tliank  you,  Murray,  thank  you,  and  I  above  all  am  wrong 
to  repine,  for  my  days  of  mourning  will  be  sooner  ended  than 
any  of  yours  :  and  then  I  shall  see  them  all  again  !  That  poor 
boy,  Donald,  with  his  handsome,  bright,  happy  fjice,  and  my 
poor  Mary,  too !  You  loved  Mary,  Alciphron,  and  I've  often  and 
often  wished  that  she  had  been  your  wife ;  I  think  you'd  have 
made  her  happier  than  Muir  Panmuir  did  ;  but  her  father  willed 
it  otherwise.  Well,  well,  there's  no  use  in  wishing ;  what's 
done  is  done ;  what's  gone  is  gone  ;  and  for  what  is  to  come 


46  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

hereafter  the  Lord  be  praised.  But  wliere  is  Edith,  poor 
child  ? " 

"  Gone  to  bed,  ma'am.     She's  not* very  welL" 

"Not  well!  She  going  to  be  ill? — perhaps  to  die,  too. 
Good  Lord  !  good  Lord  !  No,  not  another ;  not  another,  pray ! 
Spare  this  one ;  the  last,  the  only  one  !  " 

And  as  she  wrung  her  trembling  hands,  and  lowered  her 
again  streaming  eyes,  she  rose  up  and  tottered  towards  the  door, 
saying  she  would  go  to  her  directly. 

Anxious  to  spare  her  this  additional  shock,  and,  if  possible, 
to  get  her  to  bed  before  Dr.  McAlpine  arrived,  I  followed,  and 
entreated  her  not  to  do  so ;  saying  that  Edith  was  a  little  fever- 
ish, and  that  a  good  night's  rest  would  be  the  best  thing  for 
her  ;  and  therefore  she  had  better  not,  on  any  account,  disturb 
her. 

"  Murray,  tell  me  the  truth,"  said  she,  laying  her  thin,  sha- 
dowy hand  upon  my  arm,  and  looking  into  my  fjice  with  the 
most  heart-breaking  and  piteous  expression  ;  "  do  you  think  she 
will  die  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  I,  resolutely  ;  "  but  it  is  little  matter 
what  /  think.  You  know,  my  dear  Mrs.  Dunbar,  as  well  as  I 
can  tell  you,  in  whose  hands  are  the  issues  of  life  and  death  ; 
look  up  to  Him,  as  you  have  always  done,  with  feith,  and  He 
will  look  down  npon  you  with  mercy.  If  we  could  but  bear  in 
mind  that  the  nearest  way  to  God  is  through  a  great  sori'ow, 
we  should  rejoice,  even  in  tribulation ;  but  we  cannot,  nor  is  it 
natural  that  we  should  ;  we  wince  too  much  nnder  the  present 
pain  of  the  trial  to  contemplate  its  future  immunities,  and  I 
firmly  believe  that  it  is  intended  we  should  do  so  ;  for  the  uner- 
ring wisdom  of  the  Eternal  would  not  send  us  stripes  that  He 
did  not  mean  us  to  feel ;  but  it  is  one  thing  to  smart  under 
chastisement,  and  another  to  rebel  against  it ;  the  latte?-  alone 
is  sinful.  All  our  passions  have  been  given  us  to  use,  and  not 
to  lie  dormant ;  it  is  the  abuse  of  them  only  that  is  reprehensi- 
ble.       Anger  itself,  up  to  a  certain  point,  is  allowable  ;  for  this 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  4*7 

we  have  the  Saviour's  warrant;  for  wbat  was  Lis  reproof  to 
Peter  when  the  latter  smote  the  High  Priest  ? — '  Be  ye  angry, 
but  sin  not ; '  which  was  as  if  he  had  said,  you  may  be  roused 
into  the  feeling  of  anger,  for  it  is  human  so  to  be ;  but  you 
must  not  act  on  your  anger,  for  in  that  consists  the  wrong ; 
actimi  being  the  die  that  gives  currency  to,  and  stamps  the 
amount,  both  of  virtue  and  of  vice.  Moral  axioms  are  not 
moralit}^,  any  more  than  the  marble  in  the  quarry  is  either  a 
palace  or  a  cathedral ;  and  there  is  as  much  difference  be- 
tween fine  sentiments  and  amiability  as  there  is  between  a  packet 
of  mignionette  seed  (though  therein  the  globules  be  in  myriads) 
and  the  delicious  perfume  of  the  smallest  matured  and  cultiva- 
ted sprig  of  the  flower.  But,  as  immortal  creatures,  dear  Mrs. 
Dunbar,  our  great  consolation,  under  the  most  poignant  sor- 
rows, is,  or  ought  to  be,  that  we  Icnow  that  none  have  entered 
into  Canaan  but  those  whom  God  has  first  constrained  to  pass 
through  the  wilderness." 

"  True,  Mui-ray,  true  ;  and  I  stand  reproved  ;  and  yet  I  re- 
member, when  I  was  a  girl,  hearing  old  Dunbar,  of  Cedar  Idris, 
my  husband's  father,  say,  that  he  could  drink  to  almost  any  ex- 
tent without  feeling  the  worse  for  it,  as  long  as  he  drank  but  of 
one  wine  or  one  spirit ;  but  the  moment  he  mixed  them  his 
brain  reeled,  and  he  felt  unnerved  for  a  week  after.  And  I 
think  it  is  with  many  sorrows  as  with  many  wines — singly,  one 
might  bear  up  under  the  heaviest  of  them,  but  it  is  the  numher, 
Alciphron,  that  come  warring  and  battling  in  one's  poor  heart, 
which  indeed  causes  the  brain  to  reel,  and  unhinges  the  whole 
being." 

"  Not  so,"  rejoined  I,  shaking  my  head  ;  "  for,  as  in  a  mul- 
titude of  councillors  there  is  wisdom,  depend  upon  it  so  is  there 
also  in  a  multitude  of  sorrows  ;  for  the  Creator  is  not  only  a 
great  chemist,  who  knows  how  to  extract  antidotes  from  every 
poison,  but  also  a  wondrous  alchymist,  who,  from  this  earthen 
crucible  of  human  sorrow,  extracts  pure  ore  from  the  dross  ot 
our  hearts  :    and  there  is  not  a  tear  that  wc  shed  but  what, 


48  BEIIIXD    THE    SCENES. 

passed  through  the  alembic  of  his  mercy,  flows  on  befoi'e  us  into 
waters  of  eternal  life." 

"You  are  right,  Alciphron." 

"No,  not  I,  but  God.  And  now,  my  dear  madam,  I'm 
going  to  ask  you  to  give  me  a  cup  of  tea,  unless  you  do  not  like 
to  ring  for  it  till  the  Archdeacon  arrives  from  the  dining-room." 

"  Oh  !"  said  the  poor  old  lady,  rising  with  a  sort  of  shudder, 
as  she  scrambled  her  pocket  handkerchief,  snuff-box,  and  spec- 
tacles hastily  together,  "  I  could  not  see  Samuel  Panmuir  again 
to-day  if  you  were  to  give  me  the  Avorld  !  Neither  will  he 
come  here ;  for  I  told  them  to  take  him  tea  into  the  drawing- 
room  when  he  left  the  dining-room  ;  and  lest  he  should  be 
offended  at  none  of  us  being  there,  do  go,  Murray,  and  join  him. 
And  now,  as  you  say  I'm  not  to  disturb  Edith,  I'll  go  to  bed  ;  so 
good  night,  and  God  bless  you  for  the  words  of  comfort  you 
have  spoken  to  me ;  for  the  sympathy  that  flows  out  of  the 
same  grief  always  g'6es  more  home  to  one's  heart  than  any 
mere  wordy  commiseration  can  do." 

"  Good  night ;  God  bless  and  comfort  you."  And  as  I  lit 
her  chamber  candle  for  her,  I  rejoiced  that  she  would  be  out  of 
the  way  before  Dr.  McAlpine  arrived.  When  we  labour  under 
a  great  grief,  it  is  astonishing  the  weight  we  attach  to  nothings, 
and  the  symbolic  importance  the  merest  trifles  assume  ;  in 
lighting  the  hand-candle  a  large  drop  of  wax  fell  upon  the 
candlestick — 

"  See  that,  now  !  Murray,"  said  Mrs.  Dunbar,  as  her  own 
tears  began  to  flow  afresh,  "  the  very  ligfcts  se^m  to  weep  for 
poor  Donald  !  And  that  poor  dog,  Eos,  there  is  no  getting  him 
away  from  his  grave,  and  even  the  food  they  take  him  there 
remains  untouched." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  I  succeeded  in  getting  him  into  the  house 
to-night."  But  I  did  not  add,  that,  like  a  Sister  of  Charity,  he 
was  now  watching  by  Edith's  bedside.'^  After  again  exchanging 
adieus,  I  went  to  the  drawing-room,  where  the  lights  were 
lit,  and  on  the  table,  at  one  side,  were  placed  >the  Archdeacon's 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  49 

large  Bible  and  Common -Prayer  book,  in  their  pompous  bind- 
ings of  scarlet  morocco  and  gold,  with  purple  markers  fringed 
with  gold  :  also  a  thick  volume  of  his  own  sermons,  which  (out 
of  singularit}^,  no  doubt)  he  preferred  to  any  others  ;  these  were 
bound  in  solemn,  orthodox  black,  and  with  a  hymn  book,  and  a 
"  Pietas  Frivitus,-^  completed  the  paraphernalia  for  family 
prayers.  But  as  in  all  the  reverend  gentleman's  arrangements, 
the  world  (naughty  as  it  is)  never  was  totally  excluded  ;  though 
far  be  it  from  us  to  say  that  "  the  flesh  and  the  Devil  "  filled  up 
any  of  the  interstices.  At  the  other  end  of  the  table  were  strew- 
ed a  few  orthodox,  Church  and  State,  and  virtuously  intolerant 
papers,  such  as  the  John  Bull,  and  some  of  its  contemporaries, 
which  the  morning's  post  had  brought  him,  at  once  to  solace 
and  fill  up  the  vacuum  of  his  retirement. 

But  on  a  small  work-table,  beside  a  chaise  lounge,  where 
Edith  generally  sat,  and  close  to  a  long,  Hly-shaped,  white  Bo- 
hemian glass  filled  with  flowers,  was  a  packet  that  had  far  more 
interest  for  me,  because  I  had  at  once  a  fear  and  a  presentiment 
of  the  quarter  from  whence  it  came.  It  was  a  small  volume, 
sealed  up  v/ith  black  wax — evidently  containing  a  note  within 
it, — and  simply  directed — "  To  Mss  Panmuir,  Glenfern." 

The  hand  was  one  of  those  sort  of  Brummagem-German 
hands,  now  so  rife,  meant  to  look  cramped  and  clever,  and 
which,  if  there  is  anything  in  graphiology,  so  far  succeed  that 
they  have  that  great  requisite  for  all  worldly  cleverness  in  their 
character,  namely,  a  total  absence  of  any  high  moral  feeling  or 
broad  generosity  of  nature.  I  turned  this  packet  in  every  direc- 
tion, and,  upon  looking  at  the  seal,  found  it  to  contain  merely 
the  device  of  a  moth  hovering  round  a  star,  without  any  motto  ; 
indeed,  it  needed  none;  it  spoke  for  itself — being  what  our 
heraldic  forefathers  called  a  devise  parlante — "  with  this  dift'er- 
ence,"  said  I,  aloud,  in  answer  to  my  own  thoughts,  "that  I 
fancy  you  intend  that  poor  Edith  should  play  the  part  of  the 
moth."  I  rang  the  bell,  ostensibly  for  a  glass  of  water,  but,  in 
reahty,  to  question  Anderson,  touching  the  where  and  from 
2 


50  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

whom  of  this  packet — a  proceeding  of  which  I  was  half 
ashamed,  and  yet  I  felt  that  the  end  justified  the  means.  I  was 
aware  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  prize  poem  Jiad  made  some 
sensation  at  Cambridge.  This  was  a  small  volume  ;  but  no,  no, 
no — impossible !  He  might,  as  far  as  want  of  feeling  went, 
have  been  quite  capable  of  the  clumsy  bad  taste  of  endeavouring 
to  make  approaches  to  an  intimacy  with  Edith,  by  presenting 
her  with  his  "very  promising"  prize  poem  at  such  a  moment ; 
but,  as  a  clever  man,  like  all  clever  people,  he  must  have  had 
too  keen  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous  for  any  such  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding ;  as,  in  all  the  conventionalities  and  proprieties  of  life, 
the  head  is  quite  capable  of  supplying  the  place  of  the  heart; 
and,  indeed,  for  that  matter,  is  a  far  nicer  observer  of  both  the 
one  and  the  other,  than  the  latter.  Still,  it  was  a  volume  of 
some  sort,  and,  moreover,  had  been  made  the  medium  of  a 
note  ;  and,  as  such,  was  evidently  the  first  preliminary  towards 
attempting  a  correspondence.  So,  again  taking  the  packet 
carelessly  in  my  hand,  as  soon  as  Anderson  had  brought  the 
water,  I  said  to  him — 

"  I  suppose  this  has  only  just  come  for  Miss  Panmuir,  as  I 
see  it  is  not  opened  ? " 

"  Eh,  weel — no  sir — it's  bin  here  a  matter  o'  twa  days  and 
mair ;  that  flippant  chap  of  a  groom  of  aine  of  the  English 
gentlemen  brought  it ;  I  mean  they  that  brought  back  the  puir 
young  laird's  remains,  and  the  aine  that  sent  that — I  think 
they  ca' — Maister  Ponsonby  Ferrars," 

"Then  why  did  you  not  give  the  packet  to  Miss  Pan- 


muir 


?" 


"Eh  !  I  did,  sir,  the  minute  it  came;  but  she  just  flung  it 
doon  where  ye  foond  it,  whan  I  told  her  wha  it  coome  fram, 
and  went  off  into  a  deluge  o'  tears,  till  I  thought  the  puir  bairn 
wad  a  droonded  hersel',  and  she's  taken  nae  notice  o'  it  ever 
syne." 

" Thank  Heaven  1 "  thought  I ;  "it  is  to  be  hoped  that  she 
was  disgusted  at  his,  under  any  pretext,  intruding  at  this  early 


BEHIND    TIIE    SCENES.  51 

stage  upon  lier  sorrow.  Alas  !  T  did  not  then  reflect  that  none 
would  be  '  wise  as  serpents,'  w'ere  there  not  others  '  guileless  as 
doves!'" 

But  at  this  crisis  of  my  premature  gratulations,  the  folding- 
doors  of  the  room  were  thrown  open,  and,  preceded  by  Eailton 
and  another  servant,  each  holding  a  light  in  regal  fashion  (ex- 
cept that  they  did  not  adopt  any  retrograde,  crab-like  move- 
ments), the  Archdeacon  entered — a  gentle,  little,  homoeopathic 
pomposity  in  the  rustling  of  his  garments,  and  the  slight  creak- 
ing of  his  shoes,  being  the  obligato  accompaniment  of  that 
scena,  with  a  sort  of  flourish  of  trumpets'  finale,  in  the  guise  of 
three  sonorous  "  a-iiems  ! "  which  were  doubtless  intended  char- 
itably to  preclude  the  possibihty  of  any  one's  being  caught 
napping. 

In  the  heightened  tint  of  the  cheeks,  and  the  somewhat 
somnulent  drooping  of  the  eyelids,  were  tokens  that  the  parting 
between  Samuel  Panmuir  and  the  Glenfern  Burgundy  had  been 
a  protracted  one:  thus  verifying  the  assertion  of  the  song, 
that 

"  Parting  is  such  sweet  sorrow," 

and,  with  a  slight  chronological  variation,  by  no  means  omitting 
the  rhyme  of  "  to-morrow." 

Everything  about  the  reverend  gentleman's  dress,  manner, 
and  deportment,  proved  his  horror  of  innovation — which,  in- 
deed, with  him,  was  the  synonyme  of  heterodoxy;  so  that, 
even  the  most  indispensable,  though  least  cherubimical  of  his 
garments,  being  constructed  upon  the  old  aboriginal  plan,  en- 
abled him  to  fomi  an  excellent  substitute  for  gloves  at  his 
girdle,  by  making  at  once  a  refuge  and  a  resting-place  for  three 
fingers  of  each  hand,  while  the  little  fingers  and  thumbs,  dis- 
daining such  inglorious  ease,  occupied  the  outposts. 

"  Ah  !  Murray,  glad  to  see  you  ;  how  d'ye  do  again  ?  been 
long  here  ? "  said  he,  extending  one  finger  to  me,  with  a  half- 
patronizing,  half-plethoric  air. 


52       .  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Not  very." 

And  then,  walking  to  tlie  grate,  passing  the  skirts  of  his 
coat  over  his  arms,  and  turning  his  back  to  it  (although  there 
was  no  fire) — that  being  as  indispensable  a  proceeding  to  an 
Englishman  (which  means  English,  Irish,  and  Scotch)  as  turn- 
ing round  three  times  is  to  a  dog  before  he  lies  down — he  said, 
after  three  more  "  a-hems  ! " 

"I  wonder  if  the  ladies  mean  to  give  us  any  tea  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Dunbar  begged  we  would  ring  for  it ;  for  she  is  gone 
to  bed ;  and  Edith  is  so  ill,  that  I  have  been  obhged  to  send 
off  an  express  for  Dr.  McAlpine." 

"Dear,  dear,  dear!  that  is  very  sad,"  said  the  reverend 
gentleman,  as  he  walked  to  the  table,  snuffed  the  candles,  drew 
forth  his  snowy  handkerchief,  carefully  wiped  his  gold-rimmed 
double  eye-glasses,  and  possessed  himself  of  "  The  John  Bull," 
preparatory  to  ensconcing  himself  in  an  easy  chair.  "  I  was  in 
hopes,  that  my  morning's  discourse  had  convinced  her  of  the 
sinfulness  of  giving  way  to  excessive  grief;"  and  here,  he 
turned  the  first  page  of  the  newspaper,  and  indulged  in  a 
strange  walrus  sort  of  breathing,  something  between  a  subdued 
snore,  and  the  purring  of  a  cat,  after  which  he  added,  at  the 
same  time  flipping  a  minute  particle  of  the  skin  of  a  peach 
from  the  frill  of  his  shirt  (for,  of  course,  he  W'Oi-e  shirt-frills,  and 
those  of  the  largest),  "but  when  I  get  her  to  London,  the 
change  of  scene ;  the  total  novelty  of  the  whole  thing  ;  and, 
eventually,  the  pleasures  of  society,  will  be  more  efficacious,  in 
restoring  her  mind  to  its  proper  calibre,  than  anything." 

Here  he  took  a  pinch  of  snufi" ;  while  his  little  finger,  as  if 
at  once  amazed,  and  charmed,  by  so  much  benevolence,  stood 
up  like  a  note  of  admiration,  improvise,  for  the  occasion. 

"  That  is  very  kind  of  you,"  I  rejoined  ;  "  but  I  don't  know 
whether  you  are  aware  that  I  am  again  going  abroad ;  so  that 
I  have  begged  of  Mrs.  Dunbar,  and  Edith,  to  make  Brierly 
their  home,  which  they  have  kindly  consented  to  do." 

"  Ah,  clearly  so  ! "  said  the  archdeacon ;  "  and  that  is  all 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  63 

very  well,  as  far  as  a  ined  a  terre  in  Scotland  is  concerned  :  you 
see  Edith  is  an  uncommonly  pretty,  comely,  and,  indeed,  I  may 
say,  striking  person,  therefore,  I  really  do  think,  with  proper 
advantages,  such,  for  instance,  as  I  could  give  her,  she  might 
marry  uncommonly  well,  even  among  the  cre7ne  de  la  creme^ 
the  fine  fieur  of  the  English  aristocracy.  '  Pon  lionor^  as  my 
best  friend,  his  Majesty,  George  the  Fourth,  used  to  say ;  I 
think,  she's  just  the  material  for  making  a  charming  young 
duchess ;  and  when  it  comes  to  pass,  I  shall  be  quite  proud  of 
having  originated  the  idea ;"  and  again  the  gold  snuff-box  was 
tapped  (a  ^^resent  from  his  late  Majesty  George  the  Fourth,  du- 
ring his  memorable  visit  to  Edinburgh),  and  again,  a  pinch  of 
snuff  perorated  the  sentence.  While  I  replied,  more  in  answer 
to  ray  own  train  of  thought,  than  to  what  he  had  been  saying — 

'•  She  might  do  worse,  certainly,"  which  the  reverend  gen- 
tleman mistaking  for  an  intended  epigram,  enunciated  a  most 
ladylike  Httle  "ha,  ha,  ha!"  and  gently  patting  his  left  hand 
with  his  right,  he  exclaimed,  with  a  protecting  smile — 

"Pas  mall''''  for  he  was  fond  of  tesselating  his  discourse 
with  httle  scraps  of  foreign  languages,  as  it  proved  to  the  vul- 
gar two  things  :  first,  that  he  had  travelled  ;  and  next,  that  his 
faith  was  orthodox  touching  the  gift  of  tongues. 

In  order  to  change  the  subject,  which,  with  my  peculiar 
fears  respecting  Edith,  was  anything  to  me  but  a  pleasant  one, 
I  said — 

"  Oh  !  by  the  bye,  there  is  one  thing  I  am  glad  to  have  an 
opportunity  of  speaking  to  you  about ;  do  you  not  think  that 
as  it  was  poor  Donald's  intention  to  have  presented  those  costly 
old  carvinofs  to  his  narish  church,  that  it  behoves  his  relations — 
his  friends,  scrupulously  to  carry  out  his  intention  ;  and  that 
there  will  be  something  sacrilegious  (under  the  circumstances) 
in  letting  that  altar  table,  and  those  chairs,  come  to  the  ham- 
mer; and  rather  than  they  should  do  so,  ought  we  not  to  buy 
them  in  at  any  cost ;  and  see  that  they  are  consecrated  to  the 
purpose  for  which  he  had  piously  designed  them  ? " 


S4  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Oh  !  my  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  the  Archdeacon,  with  a  lit- 
tle air  of  outraged  propriety,  first  stroking  the  black  silk-stock- 
inged shin  of  his  right  leg,  as  it  was  crossed  over  the  other, 
and  then  turning  up  the  palms  of  his  hands  in  deprecation,  "  / 
never  interfere  with  any  one's  legal  rights ;  the  law  must  take 
its  course ;  and  it  would  be  highly  indecorous,  not  to  say  alto- 
gether unjustifiable,  for  me,  or  any  member  of  the  family  of  my 
late  lamented  young  relative,  much  less  of  any  friend  (and  he 
emphasised  the  word),  to  interfere  either  directly  or  indirectly 
with  the  just  authority  of  the  executors." 

"  And  they  said,  I  have  ordered  that  all  the  personals  should 
be  sold  without  reserve,  or  without  the  slightest  reference  to  the 
wishes  or  will  of  their  last  owner." 

"  Whew  !  wishes,  my  dear  sir,  are  part  of  the  empty  air  that 
turned  Don  Quixote's  windmills — and  as  to  will,  a  minor  has 
no  will,  at  least  no  right  to  make  a  will — so,  as  the  lawyers  say, 
your  action  won't  lie." 

"  A  plain  proof,"  I  retorted,  "  that  it  is  not  a  legal  action,  for 
they  generally  lie  through,  and  out  of  everything." 

Here  the  servants  brought  in  tea  ;  and  by  the  time  the 
Archdeacon  had  sent  his  commendations  to  the  dairy-maid  by 
Anderson,  on  the  super-excellence  of  the  cream,  and  next  told 
the  footman,  who  handed  the  eatables,  to  be  sure  and  remem- 
ber and  tell  the  housekeeper  that  he  disliked  rolled  bread  and 
butter,  so  to  take  care  it  did  not  come  up  again,  to  my  great 
relief  I  heard  the  distant  sound  of  carriage  wheels,  and  rightly 
concluded  that  they  were  those  of  the  post-chaise  that  brought 
Dr.  McAlpine. 

''  There  is  one  great  obstacle,  I  fear,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  the 
servants  had  left  the  room,  "to  your  plan  of  transforming  Edith 
into  a  duchess." 

"What  may  that  be?" 

"  Her  want  of  fortune — for  peers  now-a-days  are  quite  as 
eager  after  money,  if  not  more  so,  than  paupers  ;  and  were  Ve- 
nus herself  to  run  at  Newmarket  against  the  Golden  Calf,  I  do 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  55 

not  think,  in  our  anti-romantic,  and,  therefore,  sensible  (?)  and 
utihtarian  age,  from  one  end  of  the  kingdom  to  the  other,  a  boy 
of  sixteen  could  be  found  sufficiently  green  to  hazard  even  a 
sixpenny  bet  upon  the  former ;  so  you  see,  my  dear  sir,  you  are 
imposing  a  fearful  tax  upon  yourself  in  taking  charge  of  a  por- 
tionless beauty." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Murray,"  said  the  reverend  gentleman, 
closing  his  right  eye  in  so  undignified  a  manner,  that  a  casual 
observer  might  have  almost  mistaken  it  for  a  wink,  "husbands 
are  like  what  I  have  heard  girls  say  of  the  valse  a  deux  temps 
step,  '  if  they  are  not  caught  at  once  they  are  never  caught ;' 
and  ducal  coronets,  of  course,  form  no  exception  to  this  rule. 
And  though,  as  you  truly  say,  this  is  a  sensible  age,  when  even 
boys  don't  make  fools  of  themselves  for  love,  yet  the  wisest  are 
not  wise  at  all  times,  and  the  strongest  have  their  moments  of 
weakness — Samson  himself  was  caught  napping  ;  and  why  not 
some  duke,  pray  ? " 

"  Very  true,"  said  I,  "  even  though  he  should  be  armed  to 
the  teeth  with  the  self-same  weapon  with  which  Samson  slayed 
his  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands." 

"And  I  shall  very  soon  see,"  resumed  the  Archdeacon, 
"whether  Edith  takes  or  not."  ,. 

Appropriately  enough — this  leech-like  standard  that  he  had 
established  for  his  cousin, — heralded  the  arrival  of  the  Doctor, 
for  the  next  minute  a  carriage  stopped  at  the  door. 

"  Excuse  me "  said  I,  rising,  "  but  I  think  I  hear  Doctor 
McAlpine." 

"  By  all  means ; — then  you  will  not  be  back  in  time  for 
family  prayers  ? " 

"  I  think  not  to-night." 

"  Addios,  then,  only  let  me  have  McAlpine's  Bulletin.''^ 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied, — as  I  closed  the  door,  and  joined 
the  Doctor  in  the  hall. 

Mina  was  already  there,  crying — and  endeavouring  to  ex- 
plain to  him  how  ill  Edith  was  in  her  broken  English,  which 


56  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

was  not  by  any  means  rendered  more  intelligible  from  tlie 
Scotcli  twang  she  bad  acquired  in  her  studies ;  which  she  reli- 
giously believed  to  be  a  peculiar  inflection,  constituting  one  of 
the  niceties  of  English  pronunciation  ! 

Doctor  McAlpine  was  a  man  of  feeling  as  well  as  eminently 
skilful,  and  successful  in  his  profession  ;  therefore,  he  was  not 
the  least  surprised  at  Edith's  illness, 

"  It  is  so  far  fortunate,"  said  he,  "  that  this  strain  upon  the 
body  will  lessen  that  upon  the  mind,  but  nevertheless,  we  must 
manage  to  subdue  the  fever,  and,  above  all,  take  care  she  is  not 
subjected  to  any  fresh  shock  when  she  begins  to  be  convales- 
cent." 

He  then  accompanied  rae  upstairs,  where  we  found  the  poor 
sufferer  still  raving,  and  the  fever  much  increased. 

Shall  you  find  it  necessary  to  bleed  her?"  asked  I,  anxiously, 
as  he  was  counting  her  pulse. 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head.  "  The  fact  is,  my  dear 
Sir  (but  tell  it  not  in  Gath !  and  still  less  in  Perth  !  or  I  should 
lose  all  my  practice  :  for  it  takes  at  least  one  century  if  not  two 
to  remove  popular  prejudices),  I,  whenever  I  can,  practise  ho- 
moeopathically,  but  quite  sub  rosd  ;  for  the  old  ladies  of  both 
sexes  (who  would  think  me  an  ass  if  I  did  not  do  so) ;  I  still 
continue  to  administer  horse  medicines,  but  for  Miss  Panmuir, 
whose  febrile  symptoms  are  not  alone  owing  to  mental  excite- 
ment but  have  been  partly  superinduced  by  atmospheric  expo- 
sure, I  shall  mix  about  nine  globules  of  aconitum,  or  in  plain 
English  aconite,  in  six  dessert  spoonfuls  of  water,  and  the  same 
quantities  of  brionium,.or  briony,  which  will  be  given  to  her 
alternately,  a  sixth  part,  that  is  one  dessert  spoonful  every  hour 
till  the  fever  abates,  when  the  aconite  may  be  discontinued  and 
the  briony  given  alone  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  finding  her  much  better  in  the  morning." 

The  first  portion  of  this  remedy  he  administered  himself; 
and  after  giving  some  fiirther  directions  and  remaining  with  her 
about  an  hour,  he  retired  to  the  room  which  had  been  got 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  oY 

ready  for  him ;  while  I  and  Eos  remained  by  Edith's  bedside 
till  about  five  in  the  morning,  when,  thank  heaven !  the  fever 
was  much  abated  ;  and  she  fell  into  a  gentle  doze ;  when  leav- 
ing her  to  the  care  of  Mina,  and  Norris  the  housekeeper,  till 
Doctor  McAlpine  could  get  back  to  Perth,  and  send  a  nurse,  I 
returned  to  my  temporary  quarters  at  "  The  Panmuir  Arms," 
where  good  Mrs..Verner  was  not  a  little  troubled  at  hearing  of 
the  additional  sorrow  which  had  befallen  the  inmates  of  the 
Moated  House. 


SECTION  III. 

"  LE     PREMIER     PAS." 
"A  great  fight  of  afflictions."— Heb.  x.  32. 

Several  days  had  elapsed  before  the  fever  had  quite  left  Edith, 
and  during  those  days,  I  sadly  neglected  my  new  friend  Jacob 
Jacobs,  but  I  wrote  and  explained  to  him  the  reason ;  mean- 
while he  was  now  able  to  sit  in  the  open  air,  and  even  to  walk 
round  the  garden ;  and  the  sale  at  Glenfern  had  been  put  off 
for  another  ten  days  on  account  of  Edith's  illness,  which  delay 
the  Archdeacon  declared  was  a  sad  inconvenience  to  him,  but 
to  the  true  philosopher,  there  is  a  sort  of  indemnification  to  be 
extracted  from  even  the  most  cross-grained,  and  untoward  cir- 
cumstances; but  after  all,  philosophy  is  but  a  pagan  panacea 
for  the  ills  of  life,  and  therefore,  ten  to  one  but  so  tickhsh  a 
theologian  as  the  venerable  the  Archdeacon  Panmuir  would 
have  eschewed  it  as  such.  But  truly  says  Pythagoras  in  his 
golden  verses — 

"Power  is  seldom  far  from  necessity." 

So  that  what  philosophy  might  never  have  been  called  upon 
to  do,  Vieux  Fomard  and  Chateau  Margaux  were  at  hand  to 
achieve,  and  so  the  reverend  gentleman  remained  at  Glenfern 
with  the  patience  of  Job,  without  however  suffering  from  any 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  59 

of  his  afflictions.  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fevrars,  and  his  friend,  Mr. 
Cecil  Trevylian,  appeared  to  have  even  more  time"  than  money 
at  their  command,  and  they  seemed  resolved  to  waste  the  latter 
at  Glenfern,  for  there  they  still  remained,  and  were  unremitting 
in  sending  to  inquire  twice  a  day  after  Edith.  Mr.  Cecil 
Trevylian  was  the  handsomest  man  of  Trinity,  and  for  a  beauty, 
par  metier^  was  as  mild  and  innocuous  as  it  was  possible  for 
anything  so  elaborately  and  extensively  got  up  to  be.  His  was 
rather  a  peculiar  style,  wearing  his  hair,  which  was  dark  and 
lustrous  as  a  raven's  wing,  parted  do\\Ti  the  centre,  in  w^hat 
Josephus  terms,  "  after  the  fashion  of  the  Nazarines,"  which, 
with  his  pale,  clear  complexion,  and  his  small,  peculiarly  well- 
finished  features,  and  turned-down  gills,  that  displayed  to  ad- 
vantage his  exceedingly  white  throat,  gave  him  a  conflicting 
air,  between  a  persecuted  primitive  Christian,  and  a  disconsolate 
modern  dandy;  yet  nevertheless,  if  ever  content  had  become 
incarnate,  it  w^as  in  the  person  of  Cecil  Trevylian,  for  he  literally 
appeared  to  desire,  or  to  think  of  nothing  beyond  those  attrac- 
tions which  centred  in  himself,  and  this  naturally  brought  him 
to  Plutarch's  happy  standard  of — 

"  Qui  pauca  requirunt,  non  multis  exeidunt." 

Yet,  though  in  reality  such  a  frame  of  mind  is  the  ne  plus  ultra 
of  human  wisdom  ;  his  friend  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  who  all 
in  affecting  to  ridicule,  envied  him  his  good  looks,  was  in  the 
habit  of  speaking  of  him,  as  "  that  d — d  ass,  Trevylian ;"  not 
that  the  former  was  by  any  means  dissatisfied  with  his  own 
personal  appearance,  which  was  gentlemanlike,  though  decidedly 
ugly,  nor  would  he  have  been  so,  had  he  been  ten  times 
plainer.  Wilkes,  among  his  other  liberties,  took  that  of  assert- 
ing, that  in  order  to  succeed  with  any  (  ?  )  woman  he  only  re- 
quired a  fortnight's  start  of  the  handsomest  man  in  the  kingdom, 
now  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  would  not  have  deigned  to  ask,  nor 
to  accept,  even  this  much  odds,  as  he  had  a  theory  that  intel- 


60  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

lect  was  a  fiery  and  irjdomitable  Bucephalus,  that  in  any  race^ 
or  on  any  course,  could  distance  all  competitors,  and  this  said 
intellect  being  his  Cheval  de  Bataille,  he  rode  it  on  all  occa- 
sions, sometimes  a  la  Mazeppa,  without  bit  or  bridle,  where  his 
own  lawless  and  ungovernable  passions  were  concerned ;  at 
others,  where  worldly  ambition  was  the  goal,  with  whip,  spur 
and  martingale,  and  again  for  the  nominally  minor,  but  in 
reality  paramount  succes  de  society  (for  they  are  the  secret 
springs  that  move  our  social  machine),  he  had  all  the  pas  de 
manege,  caracoles,  graceful  curvettings,  and  tours  de  force  of 
"  THE  GREAT  HORSE ; "  uo  wouder  then,  that  he  was  nothing 
daunted  by  his  whiskers  being  even  more  genuinely  deep  red 
than  himself,  and  his  face  being  of  the  Cassius  type,  "  lean  and 
hungry  "-looking — with  a  strong  family  likeness  to  both  a  vul- 
ture and  a  goat ;  the  former  being  the  outward  and  visible  sign 
of  his  moral,  and  the  latter  of  his  physical  nature.  The  teeth 
were  fine,  but  of  the  carnivorous  strength  and  whiteness  of 
those  belonging  to  a  wolf  or  a  tiger,  and  the  expression  of  the 
heavy  and  animal  mouth,  especially  when  his  pale  hght  eyes 
took  the  initiative  in  speaking  to  women,  if  they  happened  to 
be  young  or  handsome,  had  so  much  of  the  satyr  in  it  as  to  be 
truly  appalling ! 

Not  a  very  seductive  portrait  this,  some  will  think.  But 
they  are  wrong,  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was  right;  for 
intellect  is  a  sort  of  Venus's  Cestus,  that  can  make  ugliness 
itself  more  attractive  with  it,  than  beauty  without  it.  A  serjDcnt 
is  anything  but  captivating  in  its  appearance,  and  yet  it  was 
under  that  form  that  the  devil  did  all  the  mischief.  Besides, 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  a  good  figure,  and  a  small  foot,  in 
which  all  the  vanity  he  could  spare  from  his  head  was  centred, 
and,  as  Trevylian  used  to  say,  it  was  upon  the  strength  of  these 
that  Ferrars  hoped  to  make  a  figure  in  the  world,  and  to  get  a 
footing  in  society.  I  repeat  this,  not  on  account  of  the  puns  with 
which  it  was  polluted,  but  because  it  is  worthy  of  record  from 
the  sayer  of  it  having  been  reckoned  the  most  silent  man  at 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  61 

Cambridge,  owing  to  the  circumstance  of  his  never  speaking 
unless  he  had  somethino;  to  sav  :  and  as  he  never  had  anvthiiio* 
to  say  (with  the  exception  of  the  foregoing  memorable  instance), 
consequently  he  never  spoke.  What  a  quiet  world  this  would 
be,  if  every  one  similarly  situated  were  to  adopt  the  same  com- 
mendable plan  !  But  to  return  to  the  Moated  House.  Xothing 
could  equal  the  desolate  appearance  of  the  rooms ;  for  all  things 
that  were  not  sealed,  had  printed  labels  pasted  on  them,  with 
the  number  of  the  lot,  ready  for  the  auction ;  which  was  now 
within  two  days  of  taking  place. 

The  handwriting  on  the  wall  could  scarcely  have  appalled 
Belshazzar  more  than  these  evidences,  that  all  would  soon  be 
demanded  of  this  bereft  family  did  Mrs.  Dunbar. 

"  That  it  should  come  to  this  ! "  the  poor  old  lady  would 
every  moment  exclaim,  with  uplifted  hands  and  streaming 
eyes. 

It  was  in  answer  to  one  of  these  ejaculations,  a  day  or  two 
before  the  sale,  that  laying  my  hand  upon  hers,  and  pressing  it 
gently,  I  said, — 

"  What  hast  thoio,  that  thou  didst  not  receive  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  well,  Murray  ;  and  yet  it  is  hard  to  part  with 
these  mute  friends  of  one's  whole  life.  What  have  they  done, 
that  they  should  be  banished  and  sent  adrift  upon  the  world, 
even  if  we  are  ?  " 

"  I  can  quite  enter  into  your  feelings,  my  dear  Madam : 
there  is  something  terrible — nay,  almost  sacrilegious — in  sell- 
ing one's  household  gods  ;  and  it  seems  as  if  the  Furies  usurped 
their  vacant  places  to  lash  us  from  the  home  we  had  desecrated, 
but  you  nmst  think  of  all  we  have  still  to  be  thankful  for — of 
Edith's  being  so  much  better,  and — 

"  I  do  think  of  it,  Murray,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Dunbar,  crying 
still  more  bitterly;  "and  I  almost  think  it  would  have  been 
better  if  she  and  poor  Donald  had  gone  together,  for  in 
their  "father's  house  there  are  many  mansions;"  but  in 
this   world    she   is  likely  soon   not   to   have   a  roof  over  her 


62  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

head,  for,  only  fancy — as  if  our  cup  of  affliction  was  not  already 
full  enough  ! — this  morning  the  executors  forwarded  a  letter  to 
Kirkby,  the  auctioneer,  from  that  Sir  Piei-s  Moncton,  to  whom 
the  house  and  lands  of  Glenfern  were  to  go  as  heir-at-law,  and 
who  (though  they  say  he  is  a  distant  relation  of  the  family's, 
I'm  very  sure  cannot  have  a  drop  of  Panmuir  blood  in  his 
veins) — well,  he  has  written  to  say,  that  as  he  lives  entirely 
abroad,  he  wishes  the  house  and  estate  to  be  put  up  to  auction 
at  the  same  time  as  the  personals,  Glenfern  being  the  only  part 
of  his  property  which  is  unentailed." 

This  was  indeed  a  blow  to  me  as  well  as  to  the  poor  old 
lady,  and  I  knew  would  be  an  additional  one  to  Edith ;  for  it 
was  some  slight  consolation,  though  a  poor  one,  to  think  that 
the  old  place  would  not  pass  entirely  out  of  the  family,  but  go 
to  at  least  a  distant  branch  of  it ;  but  endeavouring  to  conceal 
my  own  chagrin  as  well  as  I  could,  I  had  recourse  to  one  of 
those  common-place  truisms  which  nonplussed  sympathy  so 
often  resorts  to,  in  default  of  any  more  solid  grounds  of  conso- 
lation. 

"  That  is  indeed  vexatious,"  replied  I ;  "  but,  after  all,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Dunbar,  we  must  recollect  that  it  is  more  a  theoreti- 
cal vexation  than  a  practical  one,  for  Glenfern  would  have  been 
equally  lost  to  you  and  Edith  whether  it  went,  in  the  coui-se  of 
law,  to  this  Sir  Piers  Moncton,  whom  you  neither  of  you  know, 
and  never  even  saw,  or  whether  it  goes  by  chance  into  the 
possession  of  any  other  stranger." 

"  Oh  !  but  it  is  the  whole  thing,  Murray — it  is  the  whole 
thing ! — it's  all  so  bitter,  all  so  hard,  to  think  that  even  poor 
Mary's  picture,  with  that  of  poor  dear  Donald  and  Edith  hang- 
ing about  her,  done  by  Chalon,  when  they  were  only  four  and 
six  years  old,  and  Eos'  picture,  by  Landseer,  taking  care  of 
what  the  dear  good  faithful  fellow  will  never  have  to  take  care 
of  again — poor  Donald's  hat,  whip,  and  gloves — to  think,  I  say, 
that  even  those  are  to  be  sold  to  the  first  chance  purchaser,  like 
60  much  waste  paper ! — Alciphron  Murray,  I  tell  you  it's  too 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  63 

much  sorrow  to  be  heaped  on  a  poor  weak  old  heart  and  a 
tender  young  one,  all  at  the  same  time !  And  then  those 
beautiful  carvings,  too,  which  that  poor  boy  meant  for  Glenfern 
church  ; — oh !  it's  rank  sacrilege  that  is,  and  nothing  less  ! " 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Dunbar  I  "  said  I,  approaching  ray  chair  to 
hers,  and  taking  both  her  hands  in  mine,  "  things  are  not  quite 

so  bad  as  you  think.     The  pictures  of ,  the  children,  and 

of  Eos,  I  have  secured  from  profanation  by  ordering  Kirkby  to 
buy  them  in  at  any  price — so  they  are  still  Edith's ;  with  regard 
to  the  carvings,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  was  not  equally  successful, 
for  nothing  would  induce  the  Archdeacon  to  consent  to  having 
what  he  calls  the  prerogatives  of  the  executors  interfered  with ; 
so,  he  being  poor  Donald's  nearest  o'  kin,  I  could  not  act  counter 
to  his  consent,  and  was  therefore  obliged  to  content  myself 
with  having  obtained  it  about  the  pictures." 

"  Thank  you  Murray,  thank  you,  for  removing  that  much  of 
the  weight !  and  may  God  bless  you  for  it." 

"  And  now  having  blessed  me,  a  poor  humble  instrument, 
senseless  and  powerless,  with  all  my  fellows,  save  when  wielded 
and  guided  by  the  Master-hand  of  the  Great  Artificer,  let  us 
both  bless  God,  whom,  remember  (and  indeed  you  are  not  wont 
to  forget  it),  is  ever  behind  even  the  darkest  clouds^  with  which 
He  in  his  wisdom  sees  fit  to  intercept  our  temporal  sunshine.  I 
hate  being  the  hero  of  my  own  stories,  but  yesterday  morning, 
I  was  one  of  the  actors  in  a  little  scene,  out  of  wLich  La  Fon- 
taine would  have  made  a  charming  fable.  I  am  not  La  Fon- 
taine, so  instead  of  melodious  verse  turned  by  the  lathe  of  the 
Graces,  you  must  accept  plain  and  very  prosaic  prose  ;  but  the 
moral  is  pointed  by  a  higher  power,  and  it  is  for  the  sake  of 
the  latter,  dear  Mrs.  Dunbar,  that  I  trouble  you  with  my  fable 
(which  is  yet  no  fable,  as  it  really  happened).     I  call  it 

The  Blackbird  and  The  Bonze. 

"  The  latter  title,  you  must  know,  I  have  arrogated  to  my- 
self, from  having  spent  a  whole  day  nearly  in  cementing  the 


64  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

bonds  of  union  between  the  most  mutilated  and  dissevered  of 
Amy  Verner's  Nankin  cups  and  plates,  and  green  dragon  im- 
possibilities, therefore,  I  think  I  am  fairly  entitled  to  be  called  a 
Priest  of  China  ?  " 

The  old  lady  smiled,  it  was  the  first  smile  that  had  gleamed 
across  the  wintry  desolation  of  her  face  since  her  grandson's 
death ;  I  w^as  thankful  for  it,  and  continued  my  fable. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  a  certain  Bonze  or  Priest  of  China  was 
taking  his  morning's  repast  in  a  rustic  retreat,  overhanging  a 
murmuring  river  (you  know  Amy  Verner's  little  back  parlour, 
with  its  trellis  pajDer  of  roses  and  jessamine,  looking  out  upon 
the  garden  at  the  end  of  which  brawls  the  little  brook  of  the 
Muir,  those  are  the  facts,  but  for  literary  dignity  (?)  I  thought 
'  rustic  retreat '  and  '  overhanging  a  murmuring  river  ! '  sound- 
ed grander  and  better,  (another  smile  from  the  old  lady,  which 
acted  like  a  sugar  plum  to  a  child  at  its  lesson,  so  fluently  did 
it  enable  me  to  continue)  and  into  the  sympathising  bosom  of 
these  waters,  the  earliest  willows  wept,  and  on  their  limpid  sur- 
face floated  pure  white  water  lilies,  like  to  the  coronal  of  a 
bride, — except  that  few  brides,  even  royal  ones,  have  wreaths 
so  gemmed  and  pearly  !  An  Eastern  queen  of  very  brown 
complexion,  and  not  too  fair  a  fame,  dissolved,  so  at  least 
schoolboys  are  told,  ii  pearl,  or  union  in  a  cup.  (Unions  alas  ! 
are  not  so  easily  dissolved  now-a- days;)  but  here  were  whole 
cups  of  pearl,  and  each  calix  was  brimmed  up  with  diamond 
dew-drops ;  a  pretty  sight  truly,  even  as  a  Bonze  could  desire 
to  see,  and  they  in  all  countries  are  known  to  be  fastidious, 
piously  seeking  the  hest  in  every  thing.  Besides  the  river  and 
its  lilied  crown,  there  was  also  a  pretty  garden,  rich  in  blossoms, 
and  in  boughs,  and  a  fair  velvet  green-sward,  where  Flora  and 
Pomona  might  have  run  races,  and  when  trying  to  get  out  of 
the  way  of  their  importunate  pursuers  Zephyrus  and  Apollo, 
might  even  have  fallen  fifty  times  without  being  hurt  once. 
What  considerably  added  to  the  beauty  of  this  garden  was 
that  it  was  just  then  the  time  of  roses  ;  so  that  nature  seemed 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  65 

one  universal  blush,  as  if  fluttering  with  pleasure,  at  all  the 
sweet  things  the  south  wind  was  whispering  to  her.  In  short 
such  a  mosaic  of  varied  life  was  there  in  that  little  garden,  that 
the  Bonze,  as  he  looked  out  on  it,  could  not  help  comparing  it 
to  an  epitome  of  the  world  ;  the  latter  thought  w^as  more  espe- 
cially suggested  by  a  buzzing,  bustling,  burly  bee  at  that  mo- 
ment booming  past  him  w^th  as  little  ceremony  as  if  the  insect 
had  been  a  Bonze,  and  the  Bonze  only  an  insect !  '  Ah  !  there 
you  go ! '  cried  the  latter,  just  like  a  popular  author,  ransack- 
ing, rummaging  and  turning  over  the  leaves  of  every  flower ; 
cribbing  a  tint  here,  and  a  perfume  there,  then  diving  a  Httle 
deeper,  into  the  cahx  which  the  superficial  breeze  has  neglected 
to  do,  and  extracting  some  hoarded  and  unsuspected  treasure, 
and  so.  on  to  another  and  another  till  the  cram  is  completed, 
when  after  due  amalgamation — lo!  the  concrete  effluence  issues 
from  some  fashionable  hive ;  and  the  startling  audacit}^ !  is  in- 
stantly devoured  by  drones  with  commensurate  edacity.  While 
the  Wasps,  or  Critics,  (for  being  a  critic  does  not  inculpate  the 
necessity  of  being  a  conjurer!)  declare  the  last  work  of  the 
great  Bumble  Bee.  to  be  genuine  Hybla,  and  quite  worthy  of 
his  genius,  which  some  far  distant  editor  of  future  '  Notes  and 
Queries'  may  question  if  they  did  not  mean  to  write  genus  ? 
But  this  notion  suggested  by  the  Brigand  Bee,  w^as  but  a  pass- 
ing thought ;  so  the  Bonze  continued  to  eat,  and  look  out,  and 
again,  as  Bonzes  alone  can  do ; — under  difficulties,  and  the 
greatest  of  all  difficulties  too,  at  meals,  that  of  not  being  hun- 
gry ;  therefore  as  a  mezzo  iermine,  he  returned  to  philosophis- 
ing, which  is  as  good  an  amusement  as  any  other,  when  people 
have  literally  nothing  else  to  do ;  as  it  may  be  termed  Idle- 
ness playing  at  thinking.  Well  this  game  had  lasted  some 
time,  though  as  the  Bonze  had  only  been  playing  for  love,  of 
course,  he  gained  nothing ;  when  presently  he  saw  a  portly- 
looking  blackbird  alight  upon  a  rose-bush,  and  after  chirping 
to  it  for  som.e  time  he  fluttered  through  it,  and  finally  settling 
upon  one  of  the  upper  branches,  shook  it  in  the  most  uncere- 


66  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

monious  manner, — till  all  the  leaves  began  to  fall,  and  that  part 
of  the  laAYnJList  under  the  rose-tree,  became  in  truth 

"  Showers  of  shadowing  roses." 

Was  this  a  mere  fit  of  ornithological  spleen  ?  or  could  it  be  that 
the  bird  meant  it  for  a  cunning  compliment  to  his  mate,  that  in 
case  he  stayed  out  later  than  usual  amusing  himself,  he  might 
go  home  and  tell  Mrs.  B.  that  he  had  mistaken  a  rose  for  her  ? 
Or  did  the  fact  lie  the  other  way,  and  owing  some  grudge  to 
the  rose-bush,  did  he  pretend  to  mistake  2^  for  his  wife  ;  that  he 
might  thus  laudably  and  legitimately  vent  his  ill-humour  upon 
it  ?  On  this  point  let  metaphysicians  decide,  and  over  it  let 
them  squabble  and  debate  as  only  metaphysicians  can  !  '  Pos- 
ing the  syllogism  thus,'  as  the  great  Bumble  Bee  would  say, 
there  we  leave  it ;  and  return  to  the  Bonze,  who  now  began  to 
watch  narrowly  the  proceedings  of  the  bird ;  who,  as  soon  as 
the  flowers  were  freed  from  the  leaves,  commenced  eagerly  peck- 
ing at  the  petals. 

" '  Ho,  ho  !  is  it  so  ? '  said  the  Bonze  ;  '  as  usual,  the  solution 
of  the  enigma  is  a  near  and  superficial  cause,  v/hile  I  have  been 
missing  it,  by  searching  far  and  deep  where  it  was  not  to  be 
found ;  but  since,  my  poor  fellow,  it  was  merely  hunger,  and 
neither  malice  matrimonial  nor  prepense,  which  caused  your 
rough  usage  of  the  rose-tree,  I  will  take  care  you  are  not  again 
tempted  to  play  the  destroying  angel,  at  least  for  some  time.' 

"  And  so  saying,  the  Bonze  hung  through  the  window,  at  a 
little  distance  from,  but  within  sight  of  the  bird,  a  large  piece 
of  bread,  a  lump  of  sugar,  and  a  bunch  of  grapes  ;  but  the  poor 
blackbird  was  so  frightened  at  the  missiles,  as  they  hurled  past 
him,  which  he,  in  his  poor  ignorant  bird's  heart,  thought  could 
portend  nothing  less  than  the  '  crack  of  doom,'  at  least  to  all 
birds,  so  that  he  flew  hastily  away,  without  even  looking  at  the 
harvest  before  him — his  fears  struggling  and  fluttering  within 
his  poor  little  body  far  more  than  his  wings  did  without — as  he 
flew  straight  home,  without  any  fui'ther  thoughts  of  pleasure. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  6*7 

at  least  for  that  day,  to  tell  them  all,  with  the  graphic  energy 
and  eloquence  of  an  eye  and  ear  witness,  of  the  terrible  air- 
qiiake  which  had  overtaken  him  as  he  was  catering  for  their 
wants ;  and  now  they  must  make  up  their  minds  to  die  of 
starvation,  which  was  staring  them  all  in  the  face. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  Bonze  was  not  a  little  distressed  and 
disappointed  at  the  untoward  result  of  his  benevolent  intentions ; 
but  he  consoled  himself  with  the  reflection,  that  the  provisions 
would  remain,  or  could  be  renewed,  and  that  the  poor  bird's 
panic  would  pass  away  like  a  dream ;  as  all  other  things, 
whether  for  good  or  for  evil,  do  pass  in  this  ever-fleeting  and 
never-pausing  w^orld  of  ours.  Accordingly,  that  same  evening, 
a  little  before  sunset,  when  all  was  calm  and  still,  so  that  the 
very  leaves  seemed  to  sleep,  he  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
poor  blackbird  come  forth ;  but  this  time  he  neither  flew  nor 
chirruped,  but  walked  slowly  and  timorously,  as  if  duty  was 
reining  in  fear,  till  he  came  beneath  the  rose-bush,  and  beheld 
the  unexpected  treasure  that  awaited  him  ;  and  then  he  set  up 
such  a  chii'ping  and  fluttering  of  wings  as  never  was  heard  be- 
fore or  since  throughout  all  the  realms  of  Blackbirdia  and 
Thrushland  :  and  fii-st  he  flew  ofl"  with  the  grapes  ;  then  he  re- 
turned for  the  bread;  and  finally  for  the  sugar;  which  the 
Bonze  took  care  should  be  renewed  each  day.  So  that,  no 
doubt,  now,  among  his  family  circle,  when  alluding  to  the  won- 
derful manner  he  has  got  on  in  the  world,  he  always  dates  his 
rise  from  that  terrible  airquake  !  which,  at  the  time,  he  thought 
had  come  to  overwhelm  him  and  his,  with  destruction. 

"And  depend  upon  it,  my  dear  Mrs.  Dunbar,"  concluded  I, 
with  a  smile,  "  we  know  quite  as  htile  of  the  wherefore,  freight- 
ing, and  ultimate  result  of  every  blow  that,  for  the  time,  pros- 
trates and  appals  us,  as  the  poor  blackbird  did ;  but  as  we  do 
know  that  it  is  an  all-wise  and  merciful  Providence  who  directs 
every  blow  under  which  we  smart,  let  us,  at  least,  have  suflicient 
faith  to  believe  that  they  are  not  less  fraught  with  present  bene- 
volence, and  our  ultimate   and  preordained  good,  than  was  the 


68  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

one  under  wliicli  the  poor  blackbird  so  fearfully  but  foolishly- 
cowered.  And  who  knows  but,  terrible  and  trying  as  all  this 
now  is,  it  may  be  but  the  beginning  and  working  out  of  some 
great  and  signal  future  good  to  Edith  ?  " 

"  Well,  Murray,  God  in  heaven  grant  it  may  be  so ;  and  if 
it  should;  I  shall  think  of  your  blackbird  :  but,  at  all  events,  as 
you  truly  say,  all  is  God's  will ;  and  as  such  we  ought  to  en- 
deavour to  bear  it." 

"And,  depend  upon  it,  to  endeavour  stedfastly^  is  to  suc- 
ceed ;  and,  in  hearing^  it  is  not  figurative  to  assert,  that  we  ac- 
tually do  lighten  our  burden  ;  for  patience  is  the  greatest  of  all 
emollients.  We  all  pray  to  be  enabled  to  do  God's  will ;  but 
there  is  another  boon,  quite  as  essential  for  us  to  ask,  which  is, 
to  endure  His  will ;  for  our  trials  are  not  always  of  an  active 
nature,  demanding  exertion  and  diligence  from  us ;  they  are 
often,  very  often,  of  a  passive,  heavy,  and  stagnant  kind  ;  and 
these  are  always  the  most  oppressive,  not  only  because  they 
appear  to  have  taken  root  too  strongly  to  be  moved,  but  be- 
cause action,  either  of  body  or  mind,  is  in  itself  relief,  as  it  is  a 
sort  of  pioneering  away,  however  ineffectually,  the  obstacles  by 
which  we  are  surrounded.  But  w'hen  the  blow  is  overpowering, 
and  God's  hand  is  so  heavy  upon  us  that  we  cannot  move,  nor 
could  we  achieve  anything  if  we  did,  then  is  it  that  w-e  must 
pray  to  endure  ;  and  when  we  learn  to  do  so,  we  shall  indeed 
find  '  our  strength  is  in  sitting  still ; '  we  shall  turn  away  our 
wrath  from  those  poor  tools — secondary  causes — which,  as  long 
as  we  contend  with  them,  are  sure  to  prove  a  blistering  oint- 
ment to  all  our  trials,  and  we  shall  look  alone  to  the  '-great  first 
cause  least  understood.^  Reason  is  an  imperious  Ajax  dashed 
against  the  rock  of  its  own  arrogance,  and  consumed  by  the 
thunder  which  it  has  impiously  attempted  to  defy ;  but  faith  is 
an  humble  flower  which  meekly  bows  its  fragile  stem  to  let  the 
storm  pass  over  it ;  and  when  it  has  passed,  rises  again,  pure 
and  uninjured.  Look  to  this  '■great  first  cause^  my  dear  Mrs. 
Dunbar,  and  then   you   will   cease   to    arraign  this  Sir  Piers 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  69 

Moncton,  Robert  Vallory,  and  George  Gilbert,  the  executors,  or 
any  other  ephemeri ;  but  will  know  and  feel  that  it  is  God's 
■WILL  that  Glenfern  should  pass  away  fro  n  the  Panmuirs,  or, 
otherwise,  it  could  not  do  so.  And  now,"  added  I,  removing 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  sealed  packet  from  the  little  table  where 
it  had  so  long  lain  unopened,  "  I'll  go  and  see  Edith,  as  you  say 
she  is  sitting  up  in  her  dressing-room,  and  will  see  me." 

"  And  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Dunbar ;  so  giving 
her  my  arm,  we  left  the  room  together.  "We  found  Edith  half 
sitting,  half  reclining  upon  a  chaise  lounge.  As  Dr.  McAlpine 
had  foreseen,  the  exhaustion  of  the  body  had  relieved,  or  at  least 
subdued  the  mental  struggle,  for  she  was  outwardly  calm ;  a 
httle  table  with  books  and  a  lew  hot-house  flowers  stood  beside 
her ;  a  book  was  also  open  in  her  hand,  upon  which  her  eyes 
were  fixed,  and  yet  she  was  evidently  not  reading ;  and  Eos 
sat  beside  her  with  his  head  in  her  lap,  and  his  large,  brown, 
honest,  melancholy  eyes  intently  fixed  upon  her  face.  As  we 
entered,  she  raised  herself  up  to  kiss  her  grandmother,  and  then 
extended  her  hand  to  me.  By  tacit  consent  we  avoided  ail  al- 
lusion to  the  one  thought  uppermost  in  each  of  our  hearts,  and 
talked  of  the  weather  !  What  would  English,  Irish,  and  Scotch 
people  do  without  that  dreary  yet  versatile  and  never-flagging 
subject — that  national  safety-valve,  alike  for  all  dulness  and  all 
dilemmas?  This  delightful  fluctuation  of  barometrical  con- 
versation had  not  lasted  above  ten  minutes,  when  Mina  entered, 
bearing  a  small  basket  filled  with  moss  and  peregrine  falcon's 
eggs  ;  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  compliments  to  Mrs.  Dunbar, 
and  Miss  Panmuir,  and  he  had  himself  been  to  the  top  of  the 
Eagle's  Cliff  and  Cedar  Idris  for  them." 

'"''  Himself ! ''''  echoed  Mrs.  Dunbar,  looking  at  me;  "do  you 
believe  that? — when  Clooney  McBean  and  Anty  Norse,  the  best 
climbers  and  fcilcon  hunters  in  the  country,  are  afraid  to  venture 
among  the  crags,  either  of  Cedar  Idris,  or  the  Eagle's  CW]  " 

To  this  appeal  I  made  no  other  reply,  than  by  taking  up  a 
little  dropsical-looking  edition  of  Johnson's  Dictionary,  and 
reading  aloud — 


VO  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Falcon,  a  small  hawk  trained  for  sport;"  and  then  added, 
nonchalantl}^ — 

^T3y-the-bye,  Edith,  here  is  a  packet  that  has  been  lying 
below  for  you  for  some  time ;  I  don't  know  whether  it  comes 
from  the  same  perilous  height* as  those  eggs  ;  but,  I  believe,  it 
is  from  the  same  person." 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  open  it,"  said  she,  pushing  it  lan- 
guidly back  into  my  hand.  I  obeyed  by  breaking  the  seals — 
within  was  a  small  volume  of  Tennyson's  Early  Poems,  with 
"Donald  Panmuir,  Trinity  Coll.,  Cambridge,"  written  in  the 
fly-leaf;  but,  beside,  wa«  an  almost  duodecimo  volume  of  note 
paper,  closely  written,  intended,  doubtless,  for  a  note  ;  but,  much 
more  like  an  essay. 

"What  is  it?  "asked  Edith. 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  it  is,"  replied  I,  replacing  the 
packet  in  her  hand. 

She  had  no  sooner  glanced  at  her  brother's  well-known 
hand-writing,  in  the  title-page,  than  a  violent  fit  of  hysterics 
was  the  result.  I  let  these  natural  tears  take  their  course  for 
some  time,  and  then  said — 

"  You  had  better  read  this  note ; " — novel,  1  felt  would  be  a 
more  appropriate  term  for  such  a  volume. 

"No,  no,"  sobbed  Edith;  "I  cannot;  do  you  read  it." 

"  But  it  may  not  be  intended  for  any  eye  but  yours,"  rejoined 
I,  hesitatingly. 

"  Murray  !  "  said  she,  looking  at  me  reproachfully,  while  a 
slight  tinge  of  indignation  suffused  her  cheek.  These  symp- 
toms appeared  to  augur  a  proper  frame  of  mind  wherewith  to 
meet  any  advances  from  the  enemy ;  for  such,  as  far  as  Edith 
was  concerned,  I  could  not  but  look  upon  this  cold,  calculating, 
subtle,  highly  intellectual,  and  as  highly  immoral,  and  totally 
heartless  man  to  be.  His  voluminous  effusion  began  by  stat- 
ing, that  the  accompanying  little  book  had  been  the  last  poor 
Donald  had  looked  into,  as  it  had  been  found  on  his  pillow  on 
the  fatal  morning  of  the  boat  race, — here  ensued  a  sort  of  elo- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  Yl 

qiieiit  funeral  oration  on  his  virtues,  artfully  interwoven  with 
touchino'  little  reminiscences ;  the  whole  drift  of  which  was  to 
hint,  without  the  chimsy  egotism  of  actual  assertion,  the  high 
estimation  in  which  the  deceased  held  the  writer  of  those  lines, 
and  the  devoted  friendship  that  had  subsisted  between  them ; 
the  friendship,  indeed,  death  had  interrupted ;  the  devotion 
must  ever  as  a  right,  belong  to  all  who  could  claim  the  slight- 
est affinity  to  his  dear  and  ever-lamented  friend ! — here  was  a 
subtle  touch  of  inastercraft;  the  devotion,  which  might  be  con- 
sidered premature,  and  therefore  impertinently  energetic,  if  of- 
fered to  one,  was  skilfully  diluted  by  being  pledged  to  all  ! 
Surely  there  was  -noihmg  personal,  offensive,  or  even  covert  in 
this  ?  Nevertheless,  the  style  without  becoming  less  pohshed, 
less  stilted,  or  less  studied,  did  become  less  general.  The  pro- 
nouns "you"  and  "I,"  occurred  more  frequently  as  the  compo- 
sition (for  such  it  evidently  was)  advanced ;  till,  imperceptibly 
— so  imperceptibly  that  it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world — the  "I"  and  the  "you"  gradually  fused  into  "our!" 
it  was  -'■  Our  grief  I"*^  '■'•  Our  loss !''''  Then  came  a  charming 
simile  about  the  ephemeral  acquaintances,  began  in  smiles, 
which  might,  and  probably  did,  end  as  quickly  as  a  passing  ray 
of  summer  sunlight;  while  those  originating  in  the  commin- 
gling tears  of  two  great  griefs,  became  at  once  the  source  and 
the  current  of  a  deep  and  ceaseless  friendship  ! 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  elaborate 
production  owed  nothing  to  my  "  good  emphasis  and  discre- 
tion ; "  for  it  would  be  impossible  for  anything  to  be  more  slo- 
venly than  my  enunciation  of  it,  or  the  manner  in  which  I 
mouthed  the  whole ;  not  paying  the  slightest  respect  to  even 
the  most  finely  rounded  periods  ;  or  those  portions  of  it  evident- 
ly intended  by  him  to  be  the  most  touching ;  or,  as  he  himself 
would  most  aptly  have  .expressed  it,  the  most  "  telUngP  Ne- 
vertheless, save  at  those  passages  where  Edith  was  dissolved  in 
tears  at  some  direct  mention  of,  or  allusion  to  poor  Donald,  she 
hstened  to  it  with  involuntary  interest,  as  the  lights  and  shadows 


72  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

on  lier  transparent  cheek  too  plainly  testified,  coupled  with  an 
occasional,  almost  imperceptible  irritation,  at  my  uncongenial 
reading.  When  I  had  finished,  and  doled  out  to  the  last  letter 
of  the  writer's  name,  and  had  leisurely  refolded  the  effusion,  she 
said,  with  a  sigh,  as  she  took  it  off  the  table  where  I  had  first 
laid  it — 

"  He  writes  well." 

"  Too  well,"  was  my  laconic  rejoinder. 

"How,  too  well?" 

"  In  this  way,  that  if  he  felt  more,  he  could  not  express  so 
much." 

"  What !  then  would  you  have  been  so  cruel  as  to  have 
withheld  this  precious  book  from  me  ? "  said  Edith,  pressing  it 
to  her  heart,  w4th  a  tone  of  championship  that  would  have 
amply  gratified  even  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  vr.nity,  could  he 
have  seen  and  heard  it ;  and  it  would  also  have  repaid  him  for 
the  labour  he  had  evidently  bestowed  upon  his  letter;  for  he 
was  too  great  a  magi  in  the  black  art  of  seduction,  too  deeply 
read  in  the  grimoire  of  gallantry,  not  to  know  that  to  interest  a 
woman's  imagination  is  the  shortest  road  to  her  heart." 

"  Decidedly  not,"  said  I,  in  reply  to  her  question  ;  "  but  I 
would  not  have  profaned  the  sanctity  of  that  memorial  by  one 
added  syllable  of  my  own.  The  eloquence  of  rhetoric  is  fluen- 
cy ;  but  that  of  deep  feehng,  depend  upon  it,  is  silence." 

"  And  yet,  I  don't  know,"  said  Edith,  musingly,  "  people 
feel,  that  is,  they  show  feehng  so  differently." 

"  In  which  the  heart  only  resembles  other  commercial  em- 
poriums ;  for  it  is  not  always  those  that  make  the  greatest  ex- 
ternal display  which  possess  the  largest  stock  within." 

"  But  he's  very  clever  indeed,  is  he  not? — that  Mr.  Ponson- 
by Ferrars?"  put  in  Mrs.  Dunbar. 

"  Oh,  very."  And  in  order  to  finish  the  sentence,  and 
express  my  own  thoughts  more  tersely,  I  took  up  Mr.  Kendell's 
volume  on  Antediluvian  History,  which  I  had  given  Edith,  and 
turning  to  page  184,  read  aloud  the  following  most  true  pas- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  73 

sage,  which  I  should  like  to  see  inscribed  in  golden  letters  over 
all  the  doors  of  our  colleges,  and  on  those  of  every  public  and 
private  school : — 

"  How  often  are  clever  men  discovered  to  be  crafty  ?  Does 
it  not  sometimes  happen,  that  men  with  enlarged  understand- 
ings have  narrow  souls  and  selfish  hearts  ?  Is  it  not  a  fact,  that 
wise  men  are  sometimes  wicked  ? — that  they  perpetrate  their 
ills  with  sagacity — 'plate  their  sins  with  gold?'  Everyone 
knows  these  truths  ;  but  why  are  they  so  ?  Simply  because 
they  have  eaten  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  ;  they  have  devoured 
information  with  a  great  appetite ;  regarding  knowledge  as  the 
end  ;  desiring  to  be  clever,  rather  than  to  be  good.  The  mis- 
chievous tendency  of  such  a  course  is  evident.  It  places  the 
perpetrator  in  the  position  of  '  that  servant  who  knew  his  Lord's 
will,  and  prepared  not  himself,  neither  did  according  to  his  will 
(and  who,  therefore,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes).'  How 
wise,  then,  is  the  command  :  'Ye  shall  not  eat  of  it;'  and  if 
men  do  so,  how  certain  their  fall — a  fall  into  a  criminal  neglect 
of  the  laws  of  order,  propriety,  integrity,  and  virtue. 

"  Does  not  experience  prove  that  this  is  just  the  course 
which  the  sensual  appetites  of  men  suggest  ?  It  desires  to 
separate  itself  from  superior  guidance,  and  to  be  left  to  its  own 
control.  It  strives  to  prevent  knowledge  from  exercising  its 
salutary  influence  upon  the  lower  affections.  It  would  pei-siiade 
us  that  its  only  province  is  the  head — that  men  are  wise  in 
many  things,  because  they  may  happen  to  know  something  of 
a  few,  and  so  leave  the  heart  untouched  to  mistake  its  way." 

"  Now,  this,"  added  I,  "  is  as  true  as  the  Gospel  which  it 
elucidates  ;  for  it  is  this  gorgeous  illumination  of  the  intel- 
lectual portion  of  man's  nature,  while  the  more  important  moral 
part  is  left  in  total  darkness,  for  every  vice  to  stumble  through 
— that  is  the  real  curse  of  our  age.  Tell  to  any  one  the  most 
atrocious  traits  of  character,  or  blackest  deeds  of  a  person  who 
has  succeeded  in  the  world,  and  the  reply  is  nearly  invariably — 

" '  Oh  !  but  they  are  very  clever ! ' 
4 


Y4  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Which  is  as  though,  in  animadverting  upon  the  personal 
ughness  of  a  man,  you  should  be  reproved,  and  answered  by 
the  assertion — 

"  '  Yes ;  but,  then,  he  is  such  an  exemplary  character,  and 
such  an  exalted  Christian  !'  In  short,  cleverness,  now-a-days 
(that  is,  intellectual  pre-eminence),  seems  to  be  considered  as  a 
sort  of  mundane  Atonement  which  redeems  men  from  every 
sin,  and  blots  out  every  crime  !  Whereas,  spiritually  speaking, 
it  in  reality  aggravates  each,  and  renders  both  unpardonable ; 
for,  though  ignorance  may,  like  charity,  '  cover  a  multitude 
of  sins,'  verily,  those  '  who  know  the  right,  and  yet  the  wrong 
pursue,'  can  have  no  claim  on,  and,  therefore,  no  hope  of 
mercy." 

"  But,  surely,"  said  Edith,  "  you  do  not  think  that  goodness 
and  cleverness  are  incompatible  ? " 

"  Far  from  it ;  on  the  contraiy,  I  maintain  that  the  highest 
order  of  intellect  is  always  based  upon  goodness ;  for  it  has 
been  well  said,  that  '  a  man  may  be  great  by  chance,  but  never 
good  by  chance.'  It  might  be  very  clever,  for  instance,  to  begin 
building  one's  house  downward,  from  the  upper  story,  and 
would  doubtless  arrest  the  attention,  and  excite  the  admiration, 
of  the  wayfarers ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  would  be  wofully 
insecure  and  unstable  for  all  who  ventured  their  persons,  or 
their  property,  in  an  edifice  thus  constructed,  and  begun  at  the 
wrong  end.  And  even  as  vanity  renders  beauty  less  attractive, 
by  making  it  ridiculous,  so  vice,  in  my  opinion,  renders  genius 
itself  contemptible." 

"  There  is  no  one,  Murray,  whose  opinion  I  would  sooner 
defer  to,  than  yours,"  rejoined  Edith ;  "  and  yet,  it  seems  to  me 
that  you  are  unusually  severe,  and,  therefore,  perhaps,  a  little 
unjust  to  this  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars." 

I  instantly  perceived  the  impolicy  of  such  an  error,  as  my 
object  was  to  guard  her  against  him,  and  by  such  a  course,  I 
could  only  convert  her  woman's  nature  into  a  partisan ;  so  I 
hastened  to  reply  that  I  had  been  speaking  generally,  and  not 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  '76 

of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  in  particular.  But,  unfortunately, 
thanks  to  my  own  gaucherie^  the  spark  had  fallen  upon  the 
train  I  had  been  trying  to  quench,  as  Edith  was  now  evidently 
thinking  of  this  man  and  his  letter  ;  for  she  looked  almost  tim- 
idly up  in  my  face,  as  she  said — 

"  But  there  must  be  good  in  him,  or  Donald  would  not 
have  been  his  friend  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  of  his  being  clever, 
as  he  carried  off  all  the  honours  at  Cambridge." 

"  Merit,"  said  I,  stupidly  (for  I  was  again  committing  the 
very  same  blunder,  with  which  I  had  so  recently  reproached  my- 
self), "  consists  not  so  much  in  attaining  honours,  as  in  deserving 
them." 

"  Well,  but,"  said  she,  with  a  relaxation  of  the  mouth,  that 
almost  amounted  to  a  smile,  "  that  sort  of  honours  must,  at  least, 
be  deserved  by  the  talent  which  obtains  them." 

"  Who  knows  ? "  retorted  I,  as  I  rose  to  wish  her  and  Mrs. 
Dunbar  good-bye ;  for  I  found  that  my  fears  of  this  man  were 
outstripping  my  discretion,  and  so  I  thought  I  had  better  leave 
them  to  digest  the  hints  I  had  already  dropped.  "  Who  knows, 
perhaps  there  may  be  a  royal  road  to  climbing  the  tree  of 
knowledge,  as  there  is  to  ascending  Cedar  Idris,  and  the  Eagle's 
Cliff — a  ladder  made  of  other  men's  backs  and  brains,  perchance. 
But  you  are  looking  so  much  better,  Edith,  that  I  hope  in  a  day 
or  two  you  will  be  able  to  take  a  turn  round  the  lawn  with 
me." 

"  Oh  yes  !  to-morrow,"  said  she,  putting  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes,  "  I  shall  be  able  to  go  to  Amy  Verner's,  if  you 
will  drive  me  and  grandmamma  there." 

I  merely  nodded  a  silent  assent  as  I  left  the  room,  for  I 
could  not  have  uttered  it  in  words,  as,  the  next  day  but  one, 
the  sale  of,  and  at,  Glenfern  was  to  take  place ;  and  it  had 
been  agreed,  in  order  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  it,  that  Edith 
and  Mrs.  Dunbar  should  go  to  the  little  inn,  till  the  former  was 
sufficiently  recovered  to  remove  to  London,  whither  the  Arch- 
deacon, full  of  his  matrimonial  schemes,  had  insisted  upon  their 
ultimately  going. 


t  |tto  aiilr  t\}t  <§m1iilt 


SECTION  IV. 


THE    SALE. 


"I  tell  you  this  man  went  down  to  his  house  justified  rather  than  the  other.'" — 
Zuhe  siii.  9. 

"  Honour  the  Lord  with  thy  substance." — Prov.  iii.  9. 

Archdeacon  Panmiiir,  who  had  breakfasted  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual,  on  Thursday,  the  24th  of  August,  18 — ,  the  morn- 
ing of  the  sale  at  Glenfern,  was  the  first  in  the  auction-room, 
decorously  adorned  in  the  blackest  of  sables,  agreeably  relieved 
by  the  whitest  possible  of  handkerchiefs.  The  latter,  however, 
was  not  called  into  requisition  till  the  advent  of  Kirkby  the  auc- 
tioneer ;  for  upon  ni}^  arrival  the  reverend  gentleman  shook 
hands  with  me  in  as  quiet  and  unconcerned  a  manner  as  if  it 
had  merely  been  a  hunting  morning,  and  he  was  waiting  for 
the  rest  of  the  meet ;  but  when  the  appraiser  entered,  things 
naturally  assumed  a  more  business-like  appearance,  the  snowy 
kerchief  was  passed  across  his  eyes,  and  Samuel  Panmuir  said 
in  a  voice  wherein  solemnity  (at  a  moment's  notice,  as  the  play- 
bills have  it)  kindly  took  the  part  of  sorrow — 

"  A  sad  business  this,  Mr.  Kirkby." 

"  Very  sad,  indeed  sir;  don't  think  that  in  the  whole  course 
of  my  j9ro-fession*  I  ever  officiated  under  more  painful  circum- 
stances." 

*  Every  occupation  now-a-days,  from  shooting  one's  fellow-creatures 
at  so  much  per  diem,  in  a  scarlet  coat,  to  sweeping  a  street  in  a  ragged 
one,  is  by  the  employe,  called  "  a  profession."    Amen. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  77 

And  so  saying,  Mr.  Kirkby  turned  to  the  sideboard  (for  it 
was  in  the  dining-room  that  the  sale  was  to  commence),  and 
slightly  tapping  with  his  j^ro-fessional  hammer,  to  have  certain 
sample  bottles  of  wine  more  compactly  placed  by  the  servant 
who  was  arranging  them,  so  as  not  to  occupy  so  much  space, 
next  proceeded  with  his  own  orange-coloured  silk  pocket-hand- 
kerchief to  flip  the  dust  off  of  the  splendidly-carved  altar  table  and 
chairs,  which  were  to  be  the  first  lot  put  up,  and  upon  which 
the  Archdeacon  steadily  kept  his  eyes,  till  his  attention  was 
diverted  by  the  influx  of  vehicles  and  conveyances  of  every  de- 
scription, from  the  family  coach  down  to  the  rattling  post-chaises 
and  shooting  ponies,  which  now  began  to  crowd  the  lawn,  and 
throng  the  avenues  and  every  other  approach  to  the  house. 
Foremost  in  the  van  was  a  yellow  post-chaise,  with  red  wheels 
and  a  blue  post-boy,  which  now  swang  round  the  sweep  of  the 
lawn,  rattled  past  the  windows,  and  stopped  at  the  hall  door, 
and  from  which  alighted  the  two  executors,  Messieurs  Vallory 
and  Gilbert — highly  respectable  men,  both  of  them,  in  the  Eng- 
lish acceptation  of  the  word,  for  they  were  emiuently  wealthy, 
being  partners  in  the  great  Liverpool  firm  of  Vallory,  Gilbert, 
and  Vallory;  but  Gilbert  was  by  far  the  most  respectable  of  the 
two,  being  a  shrewd,  hard  man — hard  as  his  own  cash  ;  who  had 
never  lost,  lent,  ov  foolishly  spent  a  shilhng  in  the  whole  course 
of  his  Hfe.  Not  so  Robert  Vallory  ;  had  not  the  capital  been 
originally  his,  he  never  would  have  been  the  senior  partner  of 
such  a  firm ;  for  it  was  supposed  that  he  had  given  more  thou- 
sands in  helping  his  fellow-creatures  than  he  had  ever  risked  in 
commercial  speculations.  Nevertheless,  strange  as  it  might  ap- 
pear to  some,  and  to  none  more  so  than  to  George  Gilbert,  it 
would  seem  that  he  had  invested  these  lavished  thousands  to 
good  purpose,  for  he  prospered  even  in  worldly  mattei-s ;  and 
his  son,  who  was  but  a  sleeping  partner  in  the  house,  was  an  M. 
P.  among  the  few  fitted  to  be  such.  For  in  a  country  like  Eng- 
land, where  property  is  the  only  thing  legislated  for,  or  that 
finds  protection  from  our  statutes,  civil  or  penal,  it  is  fitting  that 


YS  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

it  should  be  represented  by  capitalists  ;  and  indeed  there  is  also 
another  reason,  namely,  that  the  high-toned  virtues  "which  chi- 
valry originated,  and  the  practice  of  which  our  forefathers  con- 
sidered as  the  only  charter  by  which  they  could  claim  and  re- 
tain the  title  of  Gentleman  are  now  chiefly  monopolized  by  the 
merchant-princes  of  England. 

Towards  Edith's  father,  at  the  outset  of  his  life,  Robert  Yal- 
lory  had  exercised  one  of  those  munificent  humanities,  of  a 
pecuniary  nature,  upon  which  men  bestow  that  portion  of  ad- 
miration which  consists  in  wonder ;  and  then  set  it  aside,  like 
the  other  limited  acknowledged  wonders  of  the  world,  to  be  oc- 
casionally talked  of,  but  never  imitated  ;  doubtless,  for  fear  it 
should  cease  to  be  a  wonder ;  though  the  monetary  part  of  the 
obligation  had  long  been  repaid,  the  transaction  had  rendered 
Muir  Panmuir  and  Robert  ValWry  firm  friends  for  life ;  for  it 
is  only  in  bad,  barren  natures,  that  the  golden  seed  of  gene- 
rosity, produces  the  rank,  poisonous  weed  of  ingratitude. 

We  generally  find  that  men's  moral  nature  has  an  antitype 
in  their  physical,  or  exterior  appearance,  even  Avhere  beauty  in- 
tervenes, to  dazzle  and  mystify  the  judgment.  Still,  evil  pas- 
sions cast  their  dark  shadows  athwart  its  brightness,  in  the 
silhouette  of  a  bad  expression.  Nothing  could  be  more  strongly 
exemplified  than  this  rule  was  in  the  two  partners  ;  in  Vallory 
there  was,  as  it  were,  a  shining  out  of  the  whole*  man  ;  in  the 
large,  clear  blue-eye,  honesty  and  kindness  beamed  co-equally 
on  the  high  open  forehead  ;  worldhness  had  traced  no  crooked 
indentures, — time  had  found  and  left  it  fair ;  and  the  white 
locks  above  it  were  so  silvery  bright,  that  they  looked  as  if  the 
recording  angel,  in  his  haste  to  return  to  heaven  to  register 
Robert's  good  deeds,  had  merely  dropped  a  few  feathers  from 
his  wings,  as  an  earnest  of  their  future  meeting.  On  his  cheeks 
the  glow  of  health  still  lingered,  though  tempered  with  life's  au- 
tumnal ray  ;  the  teeth,  were  also  remarkably  white  ;  and  there 
was  a  mixture  of  benevolence  and  precision  about  the  mouth, 
which  truly  typified  the  equal  balance  of  his  character.      His 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  79 

dress  and  appearance  were  those  of  an  aristocratic  country  gen- 
tleman, both  being'  clean  and  neat  to  a  peculiarity  ;  and  with- 
out being  fat,  there  was  something  large  and  portly  in  his  whole 
person.  His  hands  were  exceedingly  beautiful,  and  thorough- 
bred, and  quite  looked  their  vocation,  that  of  giving  fully  and 
amply  ;  for  we  maintain  it,  there  is  quite  as  much  physiognomy 
in  a  hand,  as  there  is  in  a  face  ; — look  at  some  hands  ;  and  you 
will  see,  that  they  can  only  scrape  and  take,  but  cannot  give. 

George  Gilbert,  on  the  contrary,  had  remarkably  small, 
sunken,  unquiet,  grey  eyes ;  which,  however  they  might  take 
in  the  light  of  others,  emitted  none  of  their  own  ;  the  forehead 
was  high  to  a  deformity,  and  appeared  still  more  so,  from  his 
being  bald ;  his  hair,  which  had  been  originally  red,  was  now 
extremely  thin,  and  from  being  nearly  gi*ey,  looked  exactly  like 
a  well-amalgamated  mixture  of  rhubarb  and  magnesia.  His 
features  were  handsome,  though  somewhat  too  sharp,  and  dis- 
figured by  a  scorbutic  eruption,  for  his  blood  was  as  poor  as 
his  spirit.  It  was  curious  to  see  anything  so  thin,  with  sufficient 
of  the  vital  principle  in  it  for  locomotion  ;  and  as  he  moved  to  and 
fro,  he  gave  one  the  idea  of  ha\nng  sent  his  flesh  and  blood  to 
be  replenished,  and  walking  in  his  bones,  till  they  came  back. 
His  costume  consisted  of  a  sort  of  muddy  evaporated-looking 
pair  of  pepper-and-salt  trousers,  with  varnished  tipped  boots  of 
the  same  colour ;  he  wore  a  white  hat,  with  a  black  crape  band 
round  it ;  and  an  uncomfortable-looking,  lanky,  black  mackin- 
tosh ;  which  altogether  gave  him  the  appearance  of  having  been 
a  failure  under  the  well-intentioned  frictions  of  the  Humane 
Society.  His  gloves  were  also  of  a  grey  motley  colour,  and  of 
some  webby  elastic  texture,  which  seemed  to  be  endowed  with 
equal  powers  of  resistance,  against  shrinking  and  stretching.  In 
his  hand  he  carried  a  small,  thin,  yellow  cane,  with  an  indige- 
nous crook  at  the  top  of  it,  which  he  kept  continually  knocking 
against  his  under  teeth,  as  if  to  test  their  soundness  ;  or  perhaps 
it  might  have  been,  to  let  no  unguarded  word  escape  his  lips  in 
spite  of  them. 


80  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

All  the  neighbours  now,  for  twenty  miles  round,  began  to 
pour  in  ;  and,  to  their  cj-edit  be  it  spoken,  all^  without  a  single 
exception,  had  come  with  the  benevolent  intention  of  purchas- 
ing, according  to  their  means,  some  one  of  the  Lares  and  Pe- 
nates of  the  young  orphan  and  the  aged  widow,  in  order  to  re- 
store it  to  them  ;  so  that  they  might,  at  least,  have  some  old 
familiar  objects  about  them  to  give  their  exile,  wherever  it 
might  be,  a  little  look  of  Home  ! 

And  presently  a  spruce  tilbury,  with  a  thoroughbred,  fine- 
headed,  curved-necked,  high-stepping  horse,  gi-oomed  to  perfec- 
tion, its  satiny  coat  only  distinguishable  from  its  plain  brown 
leather  harness  by  its  superior  lustre,  swept  past  the  windows; 
and  Tim,  who  was  in  waiting  at  the  hall-door,  took  the  reins 
and  jumped  in  as  soon  as  his  master  and  Mr.  Cecil  Trevylian 
hjjd  alighted  from  it.  There  was,  in  the  superiority  of  this  chef 
d  ''(Buvre  of  Adams's,  among  the  other  antiquated  and  lumber- 
ing vehicles,  a  sort  of  practical  impertinence  that  the  very 
shooting-ponies  (though  not  made  to  draw — even  inferences) 
must  have  been  sensible  of;  for  even  the  plain  brown  harness, 
with  no  attempt  at  ornament,  beyond  the  two  small  black  crests 
in  relief  on  the  blinkers,  were,  but  what  they  seemed,  another 
of  those  numerous  editions  of 

"  The  devil's  darling  sin — pride,  that  apes  humility." 

The  two  cantabs  were  in  deep  mourning  of  the  most  unexcep- 
tionable cut  and  texture  ;  and  yet,  although  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars'  lachrymatory  cambric,  and  that  of  the  Archdeacon,  seemed 
to  keep  up  a  sort  of  little-go  emulation  betwen  them  in  the  as- 
siduous manner  in  which  they  were  applied  to  their  respective 
owner's  eyes,  poor  Trevylian  had  monopolized  the  little  feeling 
that  fluctuated  between  them — at  least  so  I  judged,  from  the 
circumstance  of  his  never  once  looking  in  the  glass  to  see  whe- 
ther the  tears  were  in  his  eyes,  though  surrounded  by  mirrors 
of  all  sizes  and  dimensions,  which  had  been  indiscriminately 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  81 

placed  upon  the  different  tables ;  and  when  a  beauty — and 
more  especially  a  male  beauty — neglects  to  consult  anything  in 
the  shape  of  a  looking-glass  of  which  even  the  smallest  bird's- 
eye  view  is  attainable,  it  may  safely  be  concluded  that  the  feel- 
ing which  occasions  this  strange  and  very  unwonted  omission 
must  be  of  a  most  genuine  and  engrossing  nature.  At  all 
events,  where  a  dandy  is  concerned,  it  is  the  only  way  in  which 
one  can  "hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature." 

The  crowd  now  became  dense  almost  to  suffocation  ;  yet,  like 
the  imnache  hlanc  of  Henri  Quatre,  were  the  white  kerchiefs  of 
the  Archdeacon  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  to  be  ever  seen  flut- 
tering in  the  thickest  of  the  melee  ;  and  I  could  not  but  think, 
that  if  they  continued  to  do  so,  Mr.  Kirby's  pro-fessional  skill 
would  be  as  much  puzzled  by  their  supposed  signals  as  our 
Third  Richard's  guilty  fears  were  by  the  imaginary  "  two  Rich- 
monds"  he  saw  in  the  field.  Just  as  this  thought  came  across 
me,  I  perceived  Jacob  Jacobs  trying  to  make  his  way  through 
the  crowded  doorway, — which,  having  his  left  arm  still  in  a 
sling,  and  walking  with  a  stick,  was  no  very  easy  task ;  and  I 
was  about  to  step  forward  to  offer  him  my  assistance,  when  the 
Archdeacon  with  one  hand  caught  my  arm,  while  with  the 
other  he  clutched,  in  the  most  undignified  and  unsentimental 
manner,  the  snowy  handkerchief  which  usually  he  waved  so 
lightly  and  gracefully  as  if  merely  mildly  cautioning  and  ex- 
postulating with  the  flies  to  keep  their  distance. 

'•  There,  there  ! "  cried  he,  convulsively — "  there  is  that  d — d 
Jew  (Heaven  forgive  me !) — I  told  you  so ;  I  knew  his  illness 
was  all  a  sham ;  and  that  he'd  be  here  to  defraud  the  widow 
and  the  orphan  as  much  as  possible." 

"  Let  us  hope  not;"  said  I,  breaking  fi'om  him,  in  order  to 
make  my  way  towards  the  vituperated  Israelite,  "  more  than  we 
are  all  going  to  despoil  them ;  for  a  sale  of  this  sort  is  indeed 
a  terrible  spoliation." 

Samuel  Panmuir  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  shook  them  as  if 

he  had  been  anathematizing  the  whole  of  the  ten  tribes  ;  nor 
4* 


82  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

did  he  desist  till  his  eyes  fell  upon  Mr.  Gilbert's  lank  macintosh, 
which  seemed  to  act  as  a  slimy  sedative  to  his  irritated  nei'ves 
and  polemical  susceptibilities,  and  restore  him  in  some  degree 
to  his  normal  state  of  pompous  propriety. 

I  at  length  effected  a  passage  towards  Jacobs ;  and  a  very 
few  minutes  after  we  had  exchanged  greetings,  Mr.  Kirkby  as- 
cended his  ^ro-fessional  rostrum,  where  not  content  with  dra- 
ping the  now  vacant  mantle  of  the  immortal  George  Robins  so 
gracefully  and  worthily  around  him,  he  appeared  also  to  have 
evoked  the  charlatanic  shade  of  that  great  petty-larcener  of  sen- 
timent, Lawrence  Sterne ;  for  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
have  looked  more  maudlingly  than  he  did  at  the  assembled 
crowd,  previous  to  his  opening  oration,  had  we  been  all  a  set  of 
dead  asses  instead  of  living  bipeds.  Lucian  makes  Minos,  or 
Rhadamanthus  (?),  in  his  "Vision  of  Hades,"  hit  upon  the  sub- 
tle torment — combining  at  once  the  spirit  of  retributive  justice 
and  the  refinement  of  cruelty — of  setting  the  spirits  of  the  de- 
parted to  perform  all  such  tasks  and  occupations  as  were  most 
alien  from  and  repugnant  to  their  tastes  and  actions  while  on 
earth  ;  so  that  in  the  event  of  the  same  dynasty  still  continuing 
in  the  lower  regions,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Reverend 
or  irreverend  (?)  Lawrence  is  at  "  these  presents'^  so  fully  em- 
ployed in  the  exercise  of  all  the  domestic  virtues — such  as  "  lov- 
ing and  cherishing"  his  wife,  and  providing  for  and  taking  care 
of  his  family — that  he  pays  no  more  attention  to  Marias  and 
defunct  donkeys  than  he  used  when  on  earth  to  his  living  wife 
and  child ;  and  that  even  "  poor  lieutenants"  are  as  totally  ne- 
glected by  him  as  if  he  were  the  commander-in-chief  and  all  the 
horse-guards  rolled  into  one  ;  while  the  infinitely  more  illustri- 
ous George  Robins  is  indefatigably  employed  in  detecting  and 
exposing  every  puff  that  inflates  our  globe,  and  finding  funds 
for  the  payment  of  every  property  which  is  continually  being 
knocked  down  to  him,  at  the  value  he  himself  was  wont  to  set 
upon  their  matchless  merits.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Mi\  Kirkby,  as 
soon  as  his  emotion  would  allow  him  to  speak,  began  by  an- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  83 

noimcing  to  all  who  were  then  and  there  assembled,  that  it  was 
"  his  painful — indeed,  he  might  say,  his  most  painful — duty,  to 
offer  that  morning  for  sale,  the  lands,  tenements,  and  messuages, 
also  the  personals  and  household  furniture,  of  the  late  lamented 
Laird  of  Glenfern."  Here  the  face  of  the  Archdeacon  and  that 
of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  were  partially  hid  within  the  folds  of 
their  handkerchiefs  ;  nor  was  it  till  the  auctioneer  specified  indi- 
vidually the  first  lot  he  should  ofter  for  their  "  liberal  competi- 
tion," that  their  undivided  attention  seemed  roused,  and  be- 
stowed upon  him. 

"  And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  continued  Mr.  Kirkby, 
pointing  with  his  hammer  to  the  finely-carved  altar  table  and 
chairs,  ''  this  first  lot  that  I  shall  present  to  your  notice  is  not 
only  unique,  I  may  fairly  say  throughout  Europe,  for  its  intrinsic 
beauty  and  worth,  but  derives  an  additional,  I  had  almost  said 
sacred  value,  from  the  circumstance  of  their  late  lamented  owner 
having  piously  intended  them  as  a  gift  to  his  parish  church, 
nobly  preferring  to  embellish  a  place  of  public  worship,  to  self- 
ishly reserving  them,  as  many  might  have  done,  and,  indeed 
would  have  been  quite  justified  in  doing,  for  the  decoration  of 
their  own  private  chapel.  I  feel,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  it 
is  absolutely  giving  them  away  ;  but  shall  I,  as  a  commence- 
ment, say  £60  ?  " 

"  Seventy  ! "  cried  the  Archdeacon. 

"Eighty  !  "  from  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars. 

A  bow,  first  to  one  and  then  to  the  other,  from  Mr.  Kirkby ; 
when  Jacob  Jacobs  stood  forth,  and  stretching  out  his  hand  to- 
wards the  auctioneer,  as  he  bowed  round  the  room  generally  to 
the  assembled  crowd,  requested  to  be  heard. 

"  Rascal !  "  muttered  the  xlrchdeacon  ;  unfortunately  we 
have  no  Jews'  Disabilities  Bill  here,  and  the  fellow  is  on  his 
own  ground  of  chaftering  and  cheating." 

Utterly  unconscious  of  this  murmured  panegyric,  Jacobs,  in 
a  rich,  clear,  and  admirably  modulated  voice,  addressing  him- 
self to  Kirkby,  said — 


84  BEHIND    THE    SCI;NES. 

"  I  cannot  but  regret — a  regret  in  which  I  feel  sure  that  all 
now  present  will  most  fully  and  cordially  participate — that  this 
lot  should  ever  have  been  offered  for  sale  this  day  ;  as  you  truly 
say,  sir,  the  intentions  of  the  late  owner  respecting  it,  impart  to  it 
a  sacred  character,  which  surely  should  have  been  in  itself  a  suf- 
ficient guarantee  against  sacrilegious  appearances  here  to-day. 
My  creed,  as  I  need  not  inform  you,  is  not  yours  ;  but  as  a  wor- 
shipper   of    the    ONE,    SAME,    TRUE,    AND     ONLY    GOD,    I    CaUUOt 

allow  any  vessels,  originally  destined  for  His  Temple,  to  be  fur- 
ther profaned  ;  therefore,  I  herewith  beg  to  purchase  this  lot  for 
£85,  and  will  myself  present  it  to  your  Church  at  Glenfern, 
from  whence,  its  original  destination,  it  should  never  have  been 
turned  aside."  As  he  finished  speaking,  and  firmly  deposited 
the  bundle  of  notes  on  the  auctioneer's  desk,  loud  "  Hear  !  hears !  " 
clapping  of  hands,  knocking  of  sticks  against  the  floor,  and  cries 
of  "Bravo!"  "Well  done  Mosesf''  and  other  ejaculations  of 
applause,  ran  round  the  room,  in  which  even  Mr.  Kirkby,  not 
to  be  out  of  the  fashion,  joined  ;  but,  as  he  himself  said,  "  busi- 
ness is  "business,  and  he  was  sorry,  therefore,  to  refuse  Mr.  Jacobs' 
offer,  so  handsomely  made.  But  really,  £85  was  too  little  for  a 
lot  that  in  the  natural  course  of  events  must  have  gone  up  to 
£300  or  £400. 

"  It  is  quite  enough,"  said  Jacobs,  firmly,  enforcing  the  as- 
sertion by  knocking  his  stick  somewhat  energetically  on  the 
floor ;  "  quite  enough  for  what  every  one  will  readily  own  should 
never  have  been  here."^ 

*  To  show  that  I  have  invented  nothing,  and  only  added  a  few 
pounds  to  this  Jew's  Christian  feehng,  I  subjoin  the  following  facts, 
extracted  some  two  years  ago  from  a  Lincoln  paper ;  where,  it  appears 
to  me,  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Benjamins,  the  real  Simon  Pure,  is  even  more 
noble  than  the  manner  in  which  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  stating  it. 
"Would  that  many  Christians  would  "  go  and  do  likewise :" — 

Liberality  of  a  Jew. — At  the  sale  of  the  valuable  collection  of  the 
late  Mr.  C.  Mainwaring,  of  Coleby,  Lincoln,  which  has  already  extend- 
ed over  nineteen  days,  a  series  of  lots,  ten  in  number,  were  catalogued 
for  sale,  and  headed  as  having  been  intended  for  Hackthorne  Church ; 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 


More  and  louder  "  Hear  !  hears  !"  gave  full  assent  to  this  ap- 
peal ;  and  Robert  Vallory,  making-  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
and  begging  to  shake  hands  with  the  honest  Israelite,  assured 
him  that  he,  as  the  principal  executor,  after  the  feeling  of  gra- 
titude and  admiration  his  truly  liberal  conduct  had  excited  in 
him,  would,  so  far  from  opposing,  warmly  second  his  noble  and 


they  consisted  of  an  altar  table,  of  Spanish  mahogany,  elaborately  carv- 
ed, two  splendid  chairs,  devotional  stools,  (fee,  and  cost  the  late  pro- 
prietor nigh  £300.  The  surprise  of  the  public  was  great  that  these  lots 
should  be  offered  for  sale,  the  intention  of  Mr,  Mainwaring  being  so 
well  known,  and  the  name  of  the  parish  carved  upon  part  of  the  furni 
ture;  but  the  intended  donor  dying  intestate,  his  executors  ordered  the 
sale  of  all  his  effects,  without  reserve.  A  lesson  was  however  taught 
them  on  Thursday,  by  Mr.  Benjamin  Benjamins,  a  Jew  broker  of  Lon- 
don. On  lot  3122  being  put  up,  Mr.  Benjamins  addressed  the  auc- 
tioneer, and  said  the  lot  now  put  up,  together  with  the  nine  following 
ones,  were  intended  by  the  late  Mr.  Mainwaring  as  a  present  to  Hack- 
thorne  Church,  and  he  regretted,  as  he  believed  every  one  in  that  room 
did,  that  the  articles  had  not  been  presented  to  the  church,  instead  of 
being  offered  for  sale  that  day.  He  therefore  now  begged  to  say  that 
it  was  his  intention  to  buy  the  whole,  and  present  them  himself  to  the 
Christian  temple  or  church  at  Hackthorne,  and  he  therefore  asked  the 
auctioneer  to  put  up  the  ten  lots  in  one.  This  proposal  was  received 
with  much  applause  by  the  company,  upon  whom  it  came  quite  unex- 
pectedly. Mr.  Legh,  one  of  the  coheirs,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  join 
Mr.  Benjamins  in  his  very  handsome  offer.  The  auctioneer,  finding 
the  company  not  averse  to  the  proposal,  put  up  the  ten  lots  in  one,  and 
called  on  Mr.  Benjamins  to  name  his  bidding.  Mr.  Benjamins  then 
offered  £10  for  the  whole,  at  which  nominal  sum  the  auctioneer  paused, 
and  said  that  it  was  out  of  character;  but  Mr.  Benjamins  replied  that 
he  had  offered  quite  enough,  for  that  the  articles  ought  never  to  have 
been  in  the  catalogue,  and  that  it  was  discreditable  to  the  parties  who 
had  permitted  it,  and  he  was  sure  that  neither  Christian  nor  Jew  would 
oppose  him,  and  that  the  auctioneer  might  knock  the  lot  down  to  him 
as  soon  as  he  liked.  This  the  auctioneer  found  was  the  case,  and  the 
hammer  went  down  amidst  loud  cheers.  Mr.  Benjamins  immediately 
handed  over  the  order  for  their  delivery  to  the  vicar  of  the  parish,  and 
thus  a  Jew  presented  to  a  Christian  church  articles  that  otherwise  would 
have  produced  a  sum  little  short  of  £200. 


86  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

This  announcement  was  received  with  fresh  acclamations, 
and  Mr.  Kirkby,  as  in  duty  bound,  of  course  yielded  to  those 
in  authority  over  him,  and  so  resigned  the  table  and  chairs  to 
their  worthy  purchaser  ;  while  I  felt  so  proud  of  my  new  ac- 
quaintance, upon  whose  integrity  I  could  from  the  first  have 
staked  my  existence,  that  to  publicly  associate  myself  with  him 
in  this  the  first  flush  of  his  triumph,  I  felt  would  almost  amount 
to  a  species  of  vain  egotism ;  so  I  contented  myself  with 
bestowing  upon  him  from  the  place  w^here  I  stood,  a  look  of  re- 
spectful admiration,  and  reserving  any  more  vivid  expressions  of 
both  feelings  till  we  should  find  ourselves  alone. 

Meanwhile,  how  fared  it  with  the  Archdeacon  ?  Why,  well, 
of  course ;  as  it  invariably  does  with  those  men  who  are  exactly 
cut  out  for  the  precise  times  in  which  they  live ;  and  such  an 
one  was  the  venerable  the  Archdeacon  Panmuir  ;  for  never  was 
he  known  to  lag  behind  in  any  popular  movement ;  that  is, 
when  the  said  movement  had  been  carried  ne7n.  con., — for  even 
the  Reform  Bill  itself,  under  those  circumstances,  had  had  his 
support ;  and  it  is  not,  perhaps,  too  much  to  affirm,  that  had  the 
much  dreaded  Chartists  of  the  memorable  10th  of  April,  1848, 
succeeded  in  emptying  the  Bank  of  England  into  their  own 
pockets,  and  taking  possession  of  Buckingham  Palace,  instead 
of  so  shamefully  leaving  the  tents  erected  for  the  killed !  and 
wounded !  in  the  Tower  of  London,  untenanted  by  one  of  their 
own  or  their  adversaries'  legions,  the  reverend  gentleman  might 
not  only  have  become  their  champion,  but  their  chaplain !  and 
have  said  grace  before  those  who,  otherwise,  would  have  found 
none  !  Consequently,  on  the  present  occasion,  feeling  that  the 
carvings  had  for  ever  eluded  his  grasp,  he  wisely  resolved  y^Don 
gilding  the  opportunity  which  had  presented  itself  of  gaining — 
or  at  least  of  courting — a  little  popularity,  and  the  former  and 
the  latter,  most  men,  both  in  love  and  politics,  deem  synony- 
mous where  the]/  are  individually  concerned  ;  and,  being  a  dig- 
nitary of  the  Church,  he  naturally  considered  that  he  was  the 
fittest  person  to  represent  its  dignity.     So,  advancing  some 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  Si 

steps,  with  his  right  hand  oratorically  extended  in  a  manner 
that  could  not  fail  to  command  universal  attention,  he,  in  "  a  neat 
and  a'piyroiwiate  speech,^''  addressed  Jacob  Jacobs,  and  express- 
ed— not,  indeed,  his  gratitude  (for  with  all  his  faults  he  was  too 
much  of  a  gentleman  to  stoop  to  the  meanness  of  falsehood) 
but  that  of  the  parish  of  Glenfern — for  his  truly  noble  conduct 
that  morning  ;  for  "  truly  nohle  conduct''''  was  the  cue,  and  there- 
fore he  feared  being  out  in  his  part  if  he  modified  it  into  any 
other  expression.  And  such  are  the  wonderful  times  in  which 
we  live,  that,  by  the  following  morning  but  one,  an  account  of 
the  transaction,  with  the  Archdeacon's  speech  in  full,  and  innu- 
merable "  Hear,  hears,"  modelled  upon  Mrs.  Primrose's  jewels, 
in  the  family  picture, — that  is,  as  many  as  the  artist  could  throw 
in  for  nothing,  was  at  all  the  leading  newspaper  oflBces  in  Lou- 
den ;  and,  although  the  facts  of  Jacobs'  conduct  were  duly 
chronicled,  yet,  somehow  or  other,  there  was  such  a  wizard  or 
magic  light  thrown  over  the  whole  affaii-,  as  to  make  it  appear 
as  if  Archdeacon  Panmuir  had  taken  the  initiative  in  this  gen- 
erous proceeding,  but  how  this  was  managed,  Heaven,  the  rev- 
erend gentleman,  and  the  printer's  devil,  only  knew. 

The  Archdeacon  was  scarcely  reseated,  and  Mr.  Kirkby  was 
recommencing  with  a  flourish  of  his  badge  of  oflSce,  whea  his 
proceedings  were  again  interrupted  by  a  fresh  arrival,  in  the 
person  of  a  stout,  florid,  rather  bald,  open-countenanced,  and 
evidently  "  weli-to-do^^  personage,  in  a  dark  brown  surtout  and 
purple  cravat,  who,  holding  up  his  finger  to  the  auctioneer,  as 
much  as  to  say  "  Stop !  "  next  apologized  for  this  interruption, 
and  said  he  wished  to  know,  upon  the  part  of  the  Duke  of  Lid- 
desdale,  whose  agent  he  was,  whether  the  house  and  furniture  of 
Glenfern  would  not  be  sold  altogether  as  they  stood  with  the 
estate. 

"  Certainly,  sir  ;  I  believe  so,"  replied  Mr.  Kirkby,  "  pro- 
vided anything  like  an  equal  value  can  be  obtained  for  the 
furniture,  compared  with  what  would  have  been  realized  by 
its  sale  in  detail ;  but  Messrs.  Vallory  and  Gibert,  the  executors, 


88  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

are  the  proper  pei-sons  to  apply  to  ;  and,  being  here,  I  am  sure 
will  be  happy  to  afford  you  every  information  on  the  subject." 

Whereupon  Robert  Vallory  came  forward,  and  bowing  to 
the  stranger,  said,  "Whom  have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  ? " 

"  My  name  is  Tuffnell,  sir,  as  I  have  just  stated  to  this  gen- 
tleman. I  am  agent  to  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale ;  and  his  grace, 
having  heard  of  the  sale  of  the  Glenfern  estate,  wishes,  if  possi- 
ble, to  purchase  the  house  and  furniture  as  they  stand,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  trouble  of  refurnishing,  as  he  wants  the  places  for 
a  shooting-box." 

"  The  Duke  of  Liddesdale !  "  repeated  Vallory ;  "  I  was  un- 
der the  impression  that  he  was  still  a  minor,  and  being  brought 
up  in  some  strange  way  at  a  German  university.'' 

"No  longer  a  minor,"  repHed  the  other,  "for  he  is  now  near- 
ly three-and-twenty;  but  he  is  still  abroad,  and  has  been  edu- 
cated chiefly  at  Bonn ;  for  the  Duchess,  his  mother,  had  peculiar 
ideas  about  education,  which,  from  her  long  widowhood,  and 
the  equally  long  minority  of  her  son,  she  has  had  ample  oppor- 
tunities of  carrying  out ;  and  I  must  say,  her  plan  appears  to 
have  succeeded,  as  far  as  having  made  of  the  young  Duke  a 
thoroughly  excellent  member  of  society." 

"  Oh,  indeed  ! — Well,  I'm  sure,  I  should  be  very  glad,  then, 
that  he  became  the  possessor  of  Glenfern  ;  but,  you  see,  our 
object  is  to  get  as  much  as  we  possibly  can  for  the  furniture  and 
personals,  as  from  them  will  be  the  only  benefit  Miss  Panmuir 
will  derive  from  this  unfortunately  compulsory  sale." 

"  Well,  I  think  I  may  say,  without  exceeding  my  warrant, 
that  his  grace  would  be  the  last  man  to  take  any  advantage,  or 
even  allow  any  advantage  to  be  taken,  under  such  circumstan- 
ces ;  but  no  doubt  this  gentleman  (turning  to  Kirkby)  has  a 
duplicate  inventory  of  the  furniture,  wines,  personals,  &c. ;  one 
specifying  the  original  cost  of  each  item,  and  the  other  that  at 
which  they  were  to  be  offered  for  sale ;  and  it  appears  to  me 
that  the  fairest  way,  and  one  that  cannot  fail  to  meet  any  and 
every  objection,  would  be  to  take  the  former^  and  give  the 
exact  sum  the  total  amounts  to." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  89 

"Very  handsome,  indeed ;  nothing  can  be  more  so,"  said 
Vallory ;  "  and  as  all  here,  I  feel  very  sure,  had  but  one  wish 
in  attending  this  melancholy  sale,  namely,  that  of  benefiting  the 
orphan  sister  of  the  late  laird  of  Glenfern,  I  have  no  doubt  there 
will  not  be  any  opposition  offered  to  this  arrangement." 

Nor  was  there,  except  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
who,  with  a  sharp  "  D — n  it !  "  exclaimed  "  But  that's  not  fair, 
as  I,  for  one,  wished  to  purchase  many  things  which  I  know  Miss 
Panmuir  must  have  valued,  in  order  to  give  them  back  to  her." 

"A  very  laudable  intention,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tuflfnell,  calm- 
ly ;  "  and  there  is  no  earthly  reason  why  it  sliould  not  be  car- 
ried out ;  therefore,  if  any  friend  of  the  family's  will  have  the 
kindness  to  mark  off  in  the  inventory  those  articles  which  were 
more  especially  prized  by  their  possessors,  theirs  they  shall  still 
remain." 

A  murmur  of  applause  ran  round  the  room;  Mr.  Cecil 
Trevylian  actually  exerted  himself  to  such  a  pitch,  as  to  say  in 
a  distinct  and  articulate  voice, "  Well,  that  is  devilish  handsome, 
'pon  my  soul ! " 

As  an  accompaniment  to  w^hich,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  kept 
vehemently  pulling  his  under  lip ;  till  suddenly  he  cried  out, 
with  a  sardonic  giin  on  his  face,  and  a  cold  sneer  in  his  voice, 
as  if  he  thought  he  had  found  a  plan  to  baffle  the  agent  at 
last— 

"  And  pray,  may  one  be  allowed  to  inquire  what  is  the  sum 
at  which  the  furniture  and  personals  are  valued  ? " 

"  Have  I  your  permission,  gentlemen  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Kirkby, 
appealing  to  Mr.  Tuffnell,  and  Robert  Vallory. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  they  both  in  a  breath. 

Whereupon  the  auctioneer,  carelessly  flipping  back  the  mar- 
ble-papered cover  of  the  inventory  book,  read  aloud — "  The 
Lands^  Tenements^  and  Messuages  of  the  Estate  of  Glenfern, 
£42,000. 

The  Furniture,  including  Pictures,  Plate,  and  Wines^ 
£8,413. 


90  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Nine  thousand  ! "  vociferated  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  interposed  Kirkby ;  "  bat  you  forget  tbat 
competition  has  been  abandoned  ;  and  that  Glenfern  and  all 
its  appurtenances  have,  by  the  consent  of  the  executors  and  all 
present,  become  the  property  of  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Liddes- 
dale." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  not  forgotten  anything  of  the 
kind  ;  or  he  never  would  have  made  so  munificent  a  bid ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  was  the  recollection  of  this  safeguard  of  impos- 
sibility which  had  induced  him  to  do  so ;  but  this  sterling  offer 
on  his  part  had  had  such  an  effect  upon  the  weak  nerves  of  his 
poor  friend,  Trevyhan,  who  had  a  much  truer  knowledge  and 
clearer  perception  of  the  clever  man's  pecuniary^  than  of  his 
mental  resources ;  that  he  faded  back  into  his  normal  state  of 
languor,  as  he  whispered  to  Ferrars — "  Good  gwacious,  my  dear 
fellow  !  are  you  mad  ?  Where  the  deuce  would  you  have  got 
nine  thousand  pounds !  I  don't  thuppothe  if  we  were  all  sold 
up  at  Twinity,  including  our  meerschaums,  we  should  realithe 
halfthethum!" 

"  You  are  such  a  d — d  ass,  Trevylian ! "  was  the  compli- 
mentary rejoinder. 

"  At  all  eventh,  my  dear  Ferrars,"  retorted  the  other,  good- 
humouredly,  "I'm  an  ath  who  often  furnish  you  with  a. pony. ^^ 

"  My  dear  fellow !  you  alarm  me ! "  said  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  seizing  his  companion's  hand  and  feeling  his  pulse : 
"  I  really  fear  you  are  becoming  clever  !  " 

"  Oh,  no !  only  a  case  of  contact ;  like  the  Persian  simile 
you  and  Benaraby  are  always  quoting  about :  I'm  not  the  wose, 
but  I've  lived  near  it ; "  and  I'm  not  clever,  only  I've  hved  near 
you  ;  and  you  know  you're  devilish  near, — eh,  old  fellow  ? " 
and  he  illustrated  the  fact,  by  a  poke  in  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars' 
ribs. 

"  And  you  far,  very  far,  from  being  in  the  critical  state  I 
thought  you,"  sneered  that  gentleman  over  his  shoulder,  at  his 
handsome  friend. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  91 

I  was  SO  much  amused  at  this  colloquy  that  I  should  have 
continued  to  listen  to  it,  had  not  my  attention  been  arrested  by 
seeing  the  Archdeacon  shufHe  up  to  Mr.  Tuffnell ;  for,  it  ap- 
peared, there  was  still  balm  in  Gilead  for  the  former  in  the 
reflection  that  Glenfern  had  at  all  events  passed  into  ducal 
hands !  He  now  wished  to  know  from  Mr.  Tufthell,  when  the 
Duke  might  be  expected  at  Glenfern. 

Mr.  Tuffnell  really  didn't  know. 

"  Because,"  persisted  Samuel  Panmuir,  "  if  his  Grace  thinks 
of  coming  at  all  this  season,  however  late,  I  would  make  a  point 
of  remaining,  at  any  inconvenience  to  myself,  to  give  him  the 
co,rte  du  imys^  and  point  out  all  the  best  haunts  of  the  grouse." 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  agent ;  "  but  it  would 
be  a  thousand  pities  you  should  put  yourself  to  any  inconveni- 
ence, seeing  the  time  of  the  Duke's  coming  is  so  very  uncertain  ; 
if,  indeed,  he  should  come  at  all  this  year ;  for,  as  I  before  told 
you,  he  is  abroad  just  now,  and  therefore  I'm  sure  he  would  feel 
annoyed  that  there  should  be  any  unnecessary  hurry  in  the 
fomily's  removing  from  Glenfern." 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,"  said  the  Archdeacon  curtly  ;  "but  they 
have  removed,  they  went  two  days  ago ;  and  as  soon  as  Miss 
Panmuir's  health  will  admit  of  her  making  the  journey,  they 
will  return  to  London  with  me,  where  my  clerical  duties  demand 
my  presence;  but  perhaps  at  some  future  period,  when  his 
Grace  is  not  here,  he  would  kindly  allow  my  fair  cousin  to  re- 
visit these  scenes  of  her  childhood,  to  which  she  is  naturally 
much  attached  ? " 

And  this  coarse  and  clumsy  compromise  of  Edith's  womanly 
dignity,  the  reverend  gentleman  thought  a  masterly  stroke  to- 
wards harpooning  the  ducal  coronet  for  her,  which  he  had 
already  so  vividly  sketched  into  his  aerial  fabrics. 

Mr.  Tuffnell  said  he  was  sure  the  Duke  would  have  much 
pleasure  in  doing  so. 

Whereupon,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  (for  the  two  Cantabs 
had  joined  the  group)  asked  with  one  of  his  most  bitter  sneers. 


92  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

if  the  Duke  would  not  rather  prefer  being  there,  when  Miss 
Panmuir  came. 

"  Perhaps  he  might,  sir,"  said  Mr.  TufFnell,  sternly ;  "  but 
being  a  gentleman^  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale  has  too  much  re- 
spect for  the  sex,  ever  to  obtrude  himself  upon  any  lady,  and 
still  less  to  presume  to  make  free  with  the  name  of  an  absent 
one.'' 

Another,  but  this  time  a  silent  sneer,  was  the  only  reply  the 
clever  man  vouchsafed  to  this  well-merited  reproof;  while  his 
handsome  companion,  arranging  his  hat  with  both  hands  as 
scrupulously  as  if  he  had  been  poising  the  equilibrium  of  a 
world,  or  adjusting  the  balance  of  power  between  two  nations, 
said  in  a  voice  between  a  yawn  and  a  sigh — 

"Egad  !  I  know  I  wish  I  was  Duke  of  Liddesdale,  and  she 
should  never  leave  the  place  at  all." 

Whereat  there  was  a  general  laugh ;  when  Mr.  Tuffnell 
again  came  to  the  rescue,  saying — 

"  But  the  young  lady,  sir,  as  this  gentleman  will  tell  you  " 
(turning  to  Kirkby,) — "  there  are  two  words  to  every  bargain, — 
she  might  not  consent." 

"  Oh,  hang  it !  every  girl  liketh  every  fellow  who  ith  a 
duke." 

And  having  uttered  this  truly  national  axiom — the  upshot 
of  all  our  systems  of  education — Mr.  Trevylian  caressed  his  off 
whisker ;  while  the  agent,  who  appeared  to  be  a  bit  of  a  wag, 
rejoined — 

"Or  I  suppose  if  they  don't  like  the  '■fellow''  they  like  the 
duke  !     Is  that  what  you  mean  ? " 

"  Ah !  yeth,  exactly  ;  that's  the  thort  of  thing  I  do 
mean." 

"  Do  come  away,  you  are  such  a  d — d  ass,  Trevylian  ! " 
said  his  amiable  friend,  pulling  him  away ;  but  the  other,  sud- 
denly stopping,  lisped  out — 

"  Now  ath  they  thay  you're  tho  clever,  Ferrars,  I  wish  you'd 
jSnd  thomething  new  to  say  to  me ;  for  you've  told  me  that  tho 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  93 

often,  that  'pon  my  word  it  sticks  in  my  throat  like  one  of 
Mother  Prescott's  stale  mutton  pies." 

The  laugh  was  now  turned  against  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  ; 
and,  as  like  all  persons  little  scrupulous  in  hurting  the  feelings 
of  others,  he  could  not  bear  the  slightest  approach  to  a  jest  at 
his  own  expense,  he  left  his  companion  to  follow  as  he  listed, 
and  stalked  away  with  the  evanescent  rapidity  of  a  phantom. 

The  Archdeacon  then  infoi'med  the  dispersing  crowd,  that 
he  should  preach  his  farewell  sermon  at  Glenfern  Church  on 
the  following  Sunday.  This  announcement  did  not  appear  to 
awaken  any  poignant  feelings  of  regret  among  the  audience  ; 
and,  indeed,  the  sermon  itself,  which  I  afterwards  had  the  bene- 
fit of  hearing,  left  "  their  withers  equally  unwrung,"  although  it 
contained  a  sort  of  left-handed  comphment  to  Jacob  Jacobs ;  as 
in  a  sweeping  animadversion  upon  the  Jewish  people  in  general, 
and  the  people  called  Jews  in  particular,  he  treated  Jacobs  as 
the  exception  that  proved  the  rule ;  and  as  Amy  Verner  truly 
said,  he  could  not  preach  a  sermon,  even  w^re  it  about  Pei-sians 
or  potatoes,  without  having  a  fling  at  the  "Papists."  In  allud- 
ing to  the  new  altar-pieces,  he  warned  them  against  the  black 
and  Popish  heresy  of  worshipping  carved  images,  which  of 
course  was  highly  necessary  and  strikingly  appropriate  for  a 
congregation  of  rigid,  and  therefore  already  sufficiently  intole- 
rant, Presbyterians !  wo  to  the  theologians  of  the  Samuel 
Panmuir  school !  for,  as  Sidney  Smith  truly  observes,  "  the  man 
who  places  religion  upon  a  false  basis,  is  the  greatest  enemy  to 
religion." 

But  to  return  to  the  auction  room,  where  "  my  occupation 
was  gone."  As  there  was  nothing  to  be  bought,  I  left  Mr. 
Tufi"nell  concluding  his  business  with  the  executors  and  Kirkby, 
and  prepared  to  return  to  the  "Panmuir  Arms;"  and  just  as 
the  Archdeacon  got  into  his  carriage,  I  offered  my  arm  to  my 
new  friend  Jacobs ;  and  as  we  descended  the  glen  together, 
slightly  incommoded  by  the  dust  from  the  reverend  gentleman's 


94  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

orthodox  chariot  wheels,  I  thought  to  myself,  as  I  looked  at  my 
companion — verily  ! 

"  THIS    MAN  WENT    DOWN  TO  HIS    HOUSE    JUSTIFIED,    RATHER 
THAN    THE    OTHER." 


NOTICE. 


Reader  !  it  is  now  four  years  since  you  and  I  parted  at  the 
sale  at  Glenf^rn,  consequently  you  have  had  time  to  rest — /  to 
grow  more  weary ;  but  also  to  bind  up  my  gleanings,  which  I 
shall  present  you  in  a  few  more  of  what  good  Mrs.  Verner  calls 
parables ;  having  become  acquainted,  again  to  quote  from  that 
good  lady,  with  the  following  ^'•facs"  partly  from  Edith  Pan- 
muir's  own  mouth,  partly  from  observation,  and  also  from  other 
and  various  sources.  I  have  thought  it  better  to  drop  the 
egotisms  of  the  personal  pronoun,  and  amalgamate  the  events 
into  a  narrative  wherein  I  shall  only  occasionally  mention  my- 
self as  one  of  the  actors,  in  scenes  which  have  been  going  on 
stirringly  ;  though  you  and  I,  friend  reader,  have  so  long  lin- 
gered by  the  way — but  what  of  that  ?  our  business  is  not  for 
that  reason  one  whit  the  less  important !  Horace,  you  know 
(or  if  you  don't,  I  now  tell  it  to  you),  accompanied  Maecenas 
on  most  pressing  business,  and  yet  he  loitered  by  the  way,  and 
confesses  the  fact  rather  vauntingly  than  otherwise  : — 

"  Hoc  iter  ignavi  divisimus  allius  ac  nos  Praecinetis  unum, 
minus  est  gravis  appia  tardis." 

But  I  have  this  signal  advantage  over  Horace,  namely,  that 
if  you,  dear  reader  (which  of  course  means  the  public  at  large, 
unnaturally  compressed  into  the  narrow  hmits  of  an  individu- 
al !)  only  become  my  Maecenas,  I  shall  assuredly  be  minus 
nothing,  and  you  I  hope  not  much  beyond  a  few  leisure  hours, 
and,  it  may  be,  a  prejudice  seized  here  and  there,  as  contraband 
at  the  diflferent  harbours  of  truth  into  which  we  shall  have  to 
sail. 


PAEABLE  THE  SECOND. 
SECTIOi^  I. 

"  Ye  are  not  under  the  law."— G^aZ.  v.  18. 


Manhood,  -with  growing  years,  "brings  change  of  mind; 
Seeks  riches,  friends ;  with  thirst  of  honour 
And  all  the  meanness  of  ambition  knows; 
Prudent  and  wary,  on  each  deed  intent, 
Fearful  to  act,  and  afterwards  repent. 

Translated  from  Horace's  '■'■  De  Arte  Poetica.'''' 

"  Adite  (populus)  hsec  inquit  susarion 
Malar  sunt  mulieres,  veruntamen  O  populares 
Hoc  sine  malo  domum  inhabitere  non  licet." 
Stolico. 

Well,  hy  Jove !  my  dear  fellow,  I  congratulate  you,  for  your 
*  First  Love '  was  a  decided  hit ! "  cried  Mr.  Cecil  Trevylian, 
bursting  into  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  chambers  at  the  Albany? 
where  that  gentleman  sat  in  a  high-backed  Elizabethan  arm- 
chair, his  heels  upon  the  mantelpiece  (for  if  Brother  Jonathan 
goes  a-head  more  than  we  do,  young  England  goes  a-heel  quite 
as  much  as  he  does) ;  a  Turkish  tobacco  bag  hung  over  one 
knob  of  the  chair,  and  himself,  like  Jupiter  on  Olympus,  envel- 
oped in  clouds  equally  of  his  own  making, — and  he  being  also 
the  thunderer  of  his  peculiar  sphere,  like  the  other  tonans,  he 
too  was  surrounded  by  satellites.  A  wonderful  man  !  was  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars,  so  he  himself  thought,  and  so  he  said,  till 


96  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

the  saying  became  an  echo,  and  the  echo  at  length  passed  for  a 
fact — as  most  echoes  do  in  time.  In  the  short  space  of  four 
years,  he  had  got  into  Parliament  for  the  borougli  of  Frothing- 
ton ;  written  four  fashionable  novels,  three  weighty  articles  for 
the  Edinburgh ;  composed  many  speeches,  wbicb  though  nature 
had  denied  him  the  power  of  sx>eaMng^  cleverness  gave  him  the 
power  of  puffing ;  so  that  when  they  appeared  in  the  papers — 
like  a  plain  woman  in  society  who  is  the  model  of  good  dressing 
— they  did  not  fail  to  be  talked  about,  and  cited  as  a  precedent : 
nor  did  he  himself;  which  was  the  point  for  which  he  steered; 
being  well  aware,  that  to  he  talked  about,  is  to  arrive  at  the 
balf-way  house  to  the  Temple  of  Fame,  where  the  most  indefa- 
tigable traveller  on  that  steep  aud  slippery  road,  may  then  take 
his  ease  at  his  inn;  for  few  are  sufficient  connoisseurs  in  repu- 
tation to  distinguish  between  notoriety  and  celebrity.  But  his 
great  card  had  been  a  pamphlet  containing  a  severe  philippic, 
not  to  say  lampoon,  against  the  ministry  ;  as  all  ministrys  know 
— whatever  else  they  may  not  know — that  these  sort  of  bro- 
chures in  the  political  world,  are  equivalent  to  the  placards 
"  FOR  SALE,"  which  are  constantly  to  be  seen  pasted  upon 
some  of  those  neglected  vehicles,  or  other  conveniences  which 
cumber  the  causeways  about  the  environs  of  the  Metropolis. 
Accordingly,  the  ministry  took  the  hint;  and  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  was  inducted  into  a  commissionership  of  cauliflowers,  or 
some  other  equally  imj^i'ovise  and  important  little  sinecure  of  a 
thousand  a  year.  And  then  it  was  quite  charming  to  see  the 
amiable  candour  with  which  he  denounced  his  own  superficial 
view  of  the  great  Tobacco-pipe  Question,  upon  which  he  had  so 
ignorantly  vituperated  the  incapacity  of  the  Legislature ;  and 
how  gracefully  he  unsaid  every  word  he  had  said  in  the  pam- 
phlet ;  and  the  scales  having  fallen  from  his  eyes  into  the  hands 
of  Justice  !  how  he  found  that  all  the  members  of  the  adminis- 
tration, to  a  man,  were  Solons  and  Solomons.  His  schemes,  or 
rather  scheme,  for  it  was  a  universal  whole — his  scheme,  then, 
for  getting  on,  though  elaborate  and  complicated  as  the  ma- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  97 

•cliineiy  of  Charlemagne's  great  clock,  he  knew  would  be  noth- 
ing, on  that  very  account,  without  a  mainspring ;  that  main- 
spi'ing,  his  intelligence  soon  discovered  must  be  a  clique,  for 
union  is  strength ;  but  to  make  the  pivot  impregnable,  he  re- 
solved its  rivet  should  be  the  Press — which  he  was  well  aware, 
in  point  of  occult  machinations  and  omnipotent .  power  from 
which  there  is  no  appeal,  was  to  England  in  the  nineteenth, 
what  the  Inquisition  and  the  Council  of  Ten  were  to  Venice  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  with  perhaps  the  more  pojDular  and  clap- 
trap motto  of  "  Fiat  Lux  ;  "  but  it  is  nevertheless  only  the  light 
of  a  dark  lantern  ;  convenient  indeed  for  discovering  treasure, 
but  equally  so  for  concealing  iniquity,  as  all  light  must  be, 
whose  shining,  or  eclipse,  depends  solely  on  the  caprice  of  the 
individuals  who  wield  it. 

As  a  quack  practitioner,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  knew  the 
constitution  of  his  patient,  the  Press,  thoroughly,  having  felt  its 
pulse  so  often ;  and  was  therefore  well  aware,  that  with  a  series 
of  good  dinners,  there  are  few  things  that  it  cannot  digest ;  and 
by  mysterious  process  of  typical  electro-biology,  get  the  public 
to  do  so  too,  till  the  latter,  when  told  by  the  former,  that  black 
is  white  ;  or  murder  is  benevolence ;  or  vice  is  virtue ;  or  any 
other  chimera  ; — religiously  believe  them  to  be  such.  And  as  the 
English  call  themselves  a  thinking  people  (?),  each  individual 
has  his  thinking  machine,  that  is,  his  or  her  particular  news- 
paper, magazine  or  review,  which  decides  every  question  for 
them,  and  so  saves  Mr.  Bull  collectively  from  the  trouble  of 
forming  an  opinion  of  his  own.  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  and  his 
clique  reaped  such  a  golden  harvest  from  the  fabrication  of  these 
thinking  machines,  that  they  kept  up  a  great  pother  about 
removing  the  taxes  on  knowledge  or  stamp  duties  ;  because  then 
there  would  be,  if  possible,  a  still  greater  sale  than  there  already 
was  for  these  thinking  machines,  on  which  they  generously 
lavished  so  much  virtue,  morality,  and  good  feeling,  that  they 
had  n<jt  a  single  particle  left  for  their  own  personal  use ;  but 
what  matter,  since  like  the  ass  that  carried  the  relics,  they  cut  a 
6 


98  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

prominent  figure  in  the  procession  of  human  advancement; 
and  as  long  as  they  pursued  their  course  laden  with  such 
precious  things,  it  was  little  odds  to  a  delighted  public  that  they 
should  be  among  the  lowest  beasts  of  the  creation.  No  one 
had  a  better  theoretical  knowledge  of  human  nature  than  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars — that  is,  as  far  as  any  one  can  acquire  it, 
who  while  always  ranting  about  that  impossible  thing  its 
perfectahility^  is  yet  an  utter  sceptic  to  the  struggling  good  it 
really  does  possess.  And  it  was  from  this  knowledge,  that  he 
resolved  never  in  after  life,  to  lose  sight  of  his  school  or  college 
friends  ; — not  that  such  early  ties  had  any  spells  wherewith  to 
bind  so  superior  a  mind  as  his,  but  he  knew  they  were  strong 
as  adamant  to  the  more  ordinary  calibre  of  organizations  I 
besides,  these  friendships — as  the  world,  and  associations  as  he 
called  them  ;  "  told  tuell  in  one''s  social  commerce.''^  And  just 
as  everything,  however  apparently  incongruous,  is  ol  use  in 
creation — so  the  clever  man  determined  to  follow  the  same 
plan  in  that  antitype  of  the  universe,  the  construction  of  his 
own  fortunes ;  the  brains  of  those  who  had  any,  served  to  tes- 
selate  the  great  arena  of  his  ambition  ;  and  if  they  had  none, 
like  poor  Trevylian,  why  then  they  had  connexions,  or  money, 
which  served  as  a  pretty  relief,  or  a  bright  gilding,  to  the 
mosaic  of  his  self-hood.  Or  even  should  it  so  happen,  that 
they  had  not  any  one  of  these  even  ;  then,  as  in  the  old  Roman 
roads  or  the  modern  McAdamized  ones,  they  did  for  filling-up 
rubbish,  to  make  the  foundation  of  His  path  the  firmer.  Yet, 
as  heart  is  the  only  magnet  that  really  attracts  aflPection,  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  for  a  long  time  an  uphill  task  of  it ;  for 
his  very  success  (as  success  always  does  at  its  dawn)  created 
him  enemies ;  as  it  is  only  of  the  meridian  sun,  that  the  world, 
slower  than  the  Persians,  become  the  worshippers.  But  at  last, 
hke  Caius  Gracchus,  though  both  hated  and  feared,  even  the 
more  discriminating  became  subdued  by  the  man's  indomitable 
energy  and  perseverance,  accomplishing,  as  he  did,  each  of  his 
Herculean  labours,  as  if  he  had  had  but  that  one  particular 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  99 

thing  to  master  paid  attend  to;  while  the  undiscriminating  mass 
were  mystified  and  fascinated  by  "  the  number  (to  borrow 
Plutarch's  words  about  his  prototype)  of  ambassadors,  artificers, 
architects,  artists,  and  magistrates,  by  which  he  was  followed  ; " 
and  so  paid  their  crowning  tribute  to  his  amazing  industry,  and 
the  almost  miraculous  celerity  of  his  operations.  The  last  of 
which  had  been,  the  five-act  play,  upon  whose  success  Mr. 
Trevylian  had  so  cordially  congratulated  him  on  entering.  ]S"o 
wonder  it  had  succeeded,  for — besides  being  altered  from  the 
French,  who  are  always  highly  dramatic  and  telling  in  their 
stage  incidents,  its  retailer  having  given  it  merely  a  coarser  and 
broader  plot  to  suit  the  English  stage — it  had  been  proned  and 
puffed  for  weeks  before  it  was  acted  ;  and  put  upon  the  stage 
by  a  manager  who  was  himself  an  incarnate  puff",  and  with  a 
7nise  en  scene  which  had  amounted  to  several  thousand  pounds 
— so  costly  was  it  to  its  minutest  details.  To  this  adaptation 
he  had  given  the  very  nambypamby  and  untaking  title  of 
"First  Love;"  but  this  w^as  only  the  lion  dallying  somewhat 
ostent;itiously  with  his  strength,  such  a  name  would  have  d — d 
a  play  of  anybody  else's  ;  but  then  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was 
not  anybody  else — of  which  satisfactory  circumstance  he  was 
himself  perfectly  aware — and  therefore  knew,  that  had  he  called 
his  play  "  Bath  Bun,"  Sucre  de  Pomme,  or  even  Sally  Lunn  ! 
it  would  have  gone  down  with  the  public,  just  the  same;  and, 
like  the  latter,  have  been  lauded  and  discussed  at  innumerable 
tea-tables.  With  somewhat  questionable  taste,  his  description 
of  the  heroine  was  an  inventory  of  Edith  Panmuir  ;  not  but 
that  for  the  written  description  any  one  would  have  discovered 
the  slightest  resemblance,  in  the  clumsy  and  very  vulgar-looking 
dark  haired  actress  who  personated  the  "  Eva  "  of  the  play  ; 
but  it  was  part  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  theoretical  knowledge 
of  human  nature  to  believe,  that  no  flattery  could  be  too  broad 
and  glaring  in  the /ac/,  for  any  woman  ;  provided  it  were  not 
so  in  the  tone  and  manner.  His  moral  perceptions  ran  also  in 
a  parallel  channel,  for  there  was  no  amount  of  vice  and  licen- 


100  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tiousness  which  he  did  not  think  he  could  set  before  the  public 
in  print,  provided  that  like  a  statue  it  were  but  gracefully 
draped,  or  like  a  winter  beauty,  well  wrapped  up.  What  in  a 
mere  vulgar  police  report,  would  have  terminated  at  the  tread- 
mill, or  the  penitentiary,  by  him — 

"  Tricked  out  in  all  the  harlotry  of  taste," 

was  emulated  by  young  ladies,  and  expatiated  on  by  their 
mammas,  as  "  those  exquisite  descriptions  of  that  dear  Fer- 
rars!" 

When  Trevylian  entered  the  clever  man's  chambers,  on  the 
morning  in  question,  the  latter  was  not  tete-a-tete  with  his 
meerschaum ;  he  had  two  or  three  of  his  satellites  with  him, 
who  had  come  on  the  same  congratulatory  errand.  One  was 
Mr.  Issachar  Benaraby,  a  gentleman  of  Mosaic  extraction,  quite 
as  clever,  in  many  things,  as  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  and  much 
cleverer  in  others  :  such  as  oratory,  cool,  off-hand  impudence, 
and  invincible  good-temper ;  and,  being  equally  unshackled  by 
any  shadow  of  j^rinciple,  he  got  on  briskly,  with  a  sort  of  trade 
wind  in  society  ;  while  his  more  saturnine  friend  had  often  to 
tack  and  labour  at  the  pumps  to  weather  the  storm  his  own 
execrable  temper  and  overbearing  spirit  had  raised.  Mr.  Bena- 
raby's  political  opinions  (at  least  for  the  time  being)  were  con- 
servative ;  but  his  principles  (?)  were  decidedly  free-trade,  as 
they  were  open  to,  and  available  for,  any  and  every  market 
where  they  could  fetch  their  price.  He  began  his  career  by  a 
diametrically  opposite  road  to  his  friend ;  for,  whereas,  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby Ferrars  winced  under,  and  could  not  brook  the  slightest 
merriment  at  his  own  expense,  but  tried  to  awe  every  one  into 
an  overwhelming  deference  for  his  august  person  !  Mr.  Bena- 
raby more  wisely  preferred  the  "short  cut  to  popularity,"  and 
rather  sought  to  be  laughed  at  than  otherwise,  being  of  Cardi- 
nal de  Retz's  opinion,  that 

"  Qu^  fO'ii  ***'^^  V esprit,  est  Maitre  du  Gceur." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  101 

And,  besides,  he  was  well  aware  that  if  he  devoted  his  exterior 
to  the  laughing  hyaenas  of  society,  and  allowed  them  their 
mirth  at  all  his  ruffles  and  his  ringlets,  and  the  other  tomfool- 
eries of  his  costume,  it  only  made  his  wit  and  wisdom,  by  force 
of  contrast,  tell  with  double  effect,  like  the  withering  political 
sarcasms  of  the  Neapolitan  Policcinello,  which  come  trebly 
barbed  from  so  unexpected  and  grotesque  a  source.  Mr.  Bena- 
raby  was  lolling  back  in  his  chair,  the  hind  legs  of  which  alone 
touched  the  ground,  while  he  kept  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes 
of  his  waistcoat,  and  hurled  out,  without  moving  a  muscle  of 
his  own  countenance,  Pehon  upon  Ossa,  stunners !  that  kept  his 
companions  in  a  roar.  On  his  left  sat  a  young  man,  with  red 
hair,  in  spectacles,  and  rather  handsome  features,  but  so  exceed- 
ingly sharp,  that  they  looked  like  a  sample  puff  of  one  of 
Mechi's  razors.  He  was  a  college  chum  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars,  a  Mr.  Caesar  Coakington,  who  had  been  some  time  called  to 
the  bar,  for  which  he  was  eminently  calculated,  having,  as  it 
were,  been  born  a  lawyer;  and  could  not  have  been  more 
"wide  awake"  had  he  been  nursed  by  Chicane,  and  weaned 
upon  Quibble.  When  Trevylian  entered,  he  was  showing  his 
very  fine  teeth  in  a  loud  laugh,  at  some  triad  that  had  fallen 
from  Mr.  Benaraby,  about  Cheops,  plum-pudding,  and  the 
Corn-laws  ;  while  opposite  to  him  sat,  as  if  not  quite  at  his  ease 
on  so  fine  a  chair,  and  in  so  aristocratic  a  room,  a  Mr.  Carlo 
Dials,  another  star  of  the  literary  hemisphere,  who,  having  gra- 
duated about  the  streets,  his  pave  pictures  were  unsurpassed ; 
he  had  obtained  the  sobriquet  of  the  Aldgate  Aristophanes — 
the  pot-house  Plutarch  would  have  been  more  appropriate. 
Like  the  rest  of  the  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  clique,  he  thought 
to  redeem,  by  printed  morality  and  philanthropic  fine  sentiments 
the  practical  immorality  of  his  own  life,  and  the  arid  absence 
of  all  good  feeling.  He  was  not  agreeable  in  society,  as  he  al- 
ways, like  the  beggars,  appeared  to  be  keeping  any  stray  good 
thing  that  he  might  chance  to  pick  up  till  he  got  home,  when 
it  was  duly  "  booked  ; "  or  it  might  be  that  his  hair,  of  which 


102  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

he  had  an  immense  profusion,  overlaid  his  brains,  and  that  that 
made  him  appear  stupid.  This  quartett,  just  before  Trevylian's 
invasion,  had  been  forming  an  imaginary  ministry,  of  which, 
having  everything  in  his  own  gift,  it  is  needless  to  say  that  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  was  Premier  ;  and,  after  that,  Chancellorships 
of  the  Exchequer,  and  Duchy  of  Lancaster,  with  Home,  Colo- 
nial, and  Foreign  Secretaries,  flew  about  hke  autumn  leaves,  and 
he  let  his  friends  help  themselves ;  though  rather  more  espe- 
cially favouring  Mr.  Caesar  Coakington,  by  flinging  him  a  sofa 
pillow  for  a  woolsack,  and  thereby  dubbing  him  Lord  Chancel- 
lor ;  however,  "  the  house  rose,"  when  Trevylian  burst  in 
with — 

"By  Jove!  my  dear  fellow,  I  congratulate  you,  for  your 
'  First  Love '  was  a  decided  hit !  " 

"How  unnatural!"  said  Benaraby,  solemnly,  "for  one's 
first  love  is  generally  a  decided  Miss — not  that  mine  was  ;  for 
girls  do  nothing  for  one  in  society,  and  then,  altogether,  it  is 
such  a  confounded  mixture  !  Muslin  and  mammas,  bread  and- 
butter  and  brothers,  milk-and-water  and  marriage  settlements, 
parchments  and  parsons!  Ugh!  No,  thank  you ;  my  diges- 
tion is  too  weak.  As  an  Oriental  traveller,  and  a  citizen  of  the 
world,  I  don't  mind,  when  needs  must,  lunching  off  a  young 
alligator,  or  even  supping  upon  an  old  hippopotamus ;  hut  I 
have  no  fancy  for  the  Benedictine  order." 

"  Quite  right,  my  dear  fellow  !  Married  women  bore  one 
less  ;  besides,  ga  ne  tire  jms  d  consequence,  it  is  only  as  one  gets 
old  oneself,  that  youth  becomes  so  attractive  ;  and  that  that  of 
others  seems  to  replace  our  own,"  jDuffed  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
fiatically,  as  if  he  had  already  prudently  laid  by  a  supply  of 
vice  for  his  old  age. 

"  Well  now,  really  Ferrars  !  I'm  surprised  at  hearing  you 
cry  down  girls  ;  I  only  know,  were  I  you,"  said  Trevylian,  "  my 
brain  would  be  almost  turned,  at  thinking  that  my  play  was 
the  first  place  where  that  charming  little  Panmuir  girl  had  ap- 
peared this  season." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  103 

"  With  regard  to  your  brain  being  turned,  my  dear  Trevyl- 
ian,"  rejoined  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  shrouding  that  young  gentle- 
man in  a  cloud  of  smoke  as  he  spoke  : — "  I  should  recommend 
your  investing  five  shillings  in  the  purchase  of  Mrs.  Glass ;  and 
following  her  directions  for  dressing  a  hare  ;  by  '  first  catching 
your  brain ; '  and  next,  I  do  wish  you  would  leave  off  that  d — d 
habit  of  yours,  of  talking  of  all  women  as  if  they  were  opera  dan- 
cers ;  if  you  must  speak  of  that  lady,  can't  you  call  her  Miss 
Panmuir;  and  not  that  little  Panrauir  girl,  as  if  she  were  a 
Bohemian  broom-girl ;  or  some  moden  Nell  Gwynne,  about  the 
purlieus  of  Covent  Garden." 

Now,  it  may  be  inferred  from  this,  that  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  had  at  least  sufficient  virtue  to  have  some  lespect  for 
good  women,  upon  the  rare  occasions  which  he  associated  with 
them ;  no  such  thing,  for  in  the  first  place,  like  all  other  pro- 
fligates, he  did  not  believe  in  their  goodness  ;  while  on  the  other 
hand,  he  was  the  most  ultra-stickler  (as  all  bad  men  are)  for 
female  propriety :  for  a  modest  woman  to  look,  smile,  or  move, 
however  innocently,  was  denounced  by  him  as  levity,  and  more- 
over, he  and  his  clique,  as  well  as  the  Curmudgeon,  or  Brum- 
magem German  clique,  did  all  they  possibly  could,  on  every  oc- 
casion, to  lower  and  degrade  women  in  public  estimation,  for 
every  woman  who  did  not  remain  within  w^hat  they  considered 
should  be  the  proper  tariff  of  female  nulHty  and  inanity,  were 
sure  to  be  held  up  to  ridicule  by  them,  as  ^'strong-minded  women,^^ 
which  opprobrious  epithet  means  precisely  what  it  says  ;  namely, 
that  it  is  considered  high  treason,  by  self- arrogated  masculine 
superiority,  that  women  should  have  any  mind,  or  any  strength 
at  all. 

Indeed,  America,  and  France,  are  the  only  two  countries 
which  nationally  exalt  women  as  a  sex  ;  and,  in  so  doing,  they 
will  reap  their  just  reward  ;  for  the  former  will  soon  be  what  it 
is  fest  becoming,  the  greatest  and  most  enlightened  country  in 
the  world ;  and  the  latter  will  re-generate  itself  into  the  pre- 
eminent position,  which  from  its  infinite  resources,  and  its  grace- 


104  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ful,  apt,  genial,  and  popular  adaptation  of  them,  it  deserves  to 
hold  among  the  great  empires  of  progress  and  civilization. 

But  the  real  reason  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  dislike  to  hav- 
ing Edith's  name  so  lightly  mentioned,  was  not  out  of  any  pro- 
per respect  for  her  personally,  or  as  a  woman  ;  but  because  he  at 
that  time  did  her  the  honor  of  allowing  her  to  pre-occupy  his 
thoughts  ;  consequently,  by  an  inverse  i-atio,  any  disrespect  from 
another  towards  her,  seemed  a  sort  of  jostling  of  his  own  dig- 
nity. 

"Allah!  II  Allah  I"  exclaimed  Benaraby.  removing  his 
thumbs  from  his  arm-pits,  and  levelling  his  tortoiseshell  eye- 
glass at  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars ;  which,  by  the  bye,  seemed  a 
very  superfluous  appendage  to  him,  whose  eyes  were  by  no 
means  prominent,  or  near-sighted  looking ;  but  dark  and  bril- 
liant, and  of  that  oblong  shape,  fringed  with  light,  like  the  dark 
pieces  in  a  harlequin's  dress  bound  with  silver.  "Allah!  II 
Allah !  but  by  the  coffin  of  Mahomet !  you  amaze  me,  Fer- 
rars !  You  have  not  been  reading  Richardson,  and  caught  the 
Grandisons !  surely  ;  that  you  should  delegate  yourself  master 
of  the  ceremonies,  for  the  proper  introduction  of  young  ladies' 
names  to  young  gentlemen's  ears  ? " 

"  Go,  my  dear  fellow,"  rejoined  the  other,  with  a  ghastly 
smile ;  "  but  it's  so  devilish  low,  and  slang,  talking  of  women  in 
society  in  that  way." 

"Slang!  Oh,  sir,  you  do  me 'proud^''  said  Mr.  Carlo  Dials, 
rising  and  bowing  to  the  ground,  with  mock  solemnity,  previ- 
ous to  placing  his  right  thumb  against  the  tip  of  his  nose,  and 
the  left  against  his  little  finger,  and  playing  an  imaginary  fanta- 
sia, as  one  of  the  juvenile  heroes  of  his  own  books  might  have 
done ;  whereat  the  assembled  party  all  laughed,  as  in  duty 
bound,  when  any  St.  Giles's  pearls,  or  pig-nuts,  fell  from  so  char- 
tered an  individual. 

"  "Well,  but  about  Miss  Panmuir,  and  your  play,"  resumed 
Trevylian,  as  soon  as  the  laugh  at  Mr.  Carlo  Dials'  wit  (?)  was 
over. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  105 

"  Pshaw  !  never  mind  my  play  !  "  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars,  peevishly,  dashing  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  with  unneces- 
sary vengeance  on  the  hob ;  and  then  be  added,  with  a  forced 
laugh  :  "  We  were  rehearsing  a  drama  that  we  all  hope  to  act 
in  one  of  these  days ;  when  you  came  in,  and  caused  a  split  in 
our  cabinet,  we  were  planning  what  we  would  do,  when  we 
came  into  office ;  and  I  was  apologizing  to  Benaraby  that  I  could 
not  malvc  him  Premier,  and  be  it  myself  too !  and,  indeed,  af- 
ter his  able  speech,  and  victory  over  the  Manchester  faction,  the 
other  night,  in  the  House,  he  deserves  something  paramount." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  pray  ;  no  apologies,  my  dear  fellow  ;  and 
may  you  reta*:.  your  ^:>re6'r/2^  eminent  position  stilly  when  I  shall, 
in  the  course  of  time,  have  succeeded  in  climbing  as  far  as  a 
Secretary  at  War,  or  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequership,  or  some 
little  molehill  of  that  sort." 

The  covered  sarcasm  of  this  speech,  and  the  imperturbable 
sang  froid  with  which  it  was  uttered,  elicited  a  roar  of  laughter 
from  the  whole  party,  and  more  especially  from  Mr.  Caesar 
Coakington,  in  which  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was,  in  self-defence, 
obliged  to  join. 

"  Well,  but  to  return  to  my  eminent  position,"  said  the  lat- 
ter, attempting  a  postscript  to  his  late  compulsory  laugh,  "any- 
thing in  my  gift,  my  dear  Benaraby,  shall  be  at  your  service. 
You  have  only  to  choose  what  it  shall  be." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,  said  the  Gallipot,"  asided  Mr. 
Carlo  Dials, 

"  Clearly  so,"  laughed  the  embryo  Lord  Chancellor. 

"  Oh !  thank  you ;  any  little  thing,"  replied  Benaraby,  with 
one  of  his  most  serious  and  earnest  looks ;  "  I'm  not  proud — 
why  should  I  be  ?  Epaminondas,  after  his  victory  over  the 
Mantineans,  accepted  a  commissionership  of  sewers  at  Thebes ; 
and  I,  after  mine  over  the  Manchesterians,  am  quite  ready  to 
superintend  the  Board  of  Scavengers  in  London,  or  do  anything 
else  to  '  make  myself  generally  useful,'  as  all  servants  out  of 
place  say,  who  never  mean  to  do  anything  in  place." 
5* 


106  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Another  laugh  followed  this  speech,  and,  at  its  close,  Trevy- 
lian,  hke  a  child  asssiduously  returning  to  a  forbidden  subject, 
or  a  dog  incontinently  bringing  to  light  objects  especially  in- 
tended to  be  buried  in  oblivion,  cried  out, — 

"  Oh  !  while  I  think  of  it,  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Ferrars,  who 
that  devilish  good-looking  fellow  was  that  came  into  the  Pan- 
muirs'  box  last  night  ?  " 

"  Good  looking  ! "  almost  screamed  Mr,  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
his  eyes  flaming,  and  he  wasting  at  least  an  ounce  of  Latakai 
on  the  carpet  by  his  ineflfectual  eflbrts  to  fill  his  pipe  without 
looking  either  at  it  or  the  tobacco  bag.  "  Well !  if  thafs  your 
idea  of  good  looking,  1  thought  him  the  d — dest  snob  I'd  ever 


seen 


1" 


"  You  don't  mean  Lord  Ernest  Clare,  do  you  ?  "  said  Mr, 
Caesar  Coakington  to  Trevylian. 

"  Oh  no  !  I  know  him.  Besides,  he''s  fair,  and  this  man  is 
dark,  and,  I  think,  particularly  gentlemanlike,  though  Ferrars 
calls  him  a  snob ;  he's  anything  but  that,  though  there  is  some- 
thing peculiar  about  him  certainly ;  though  what  it  is  I  can't 
tell." 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  first  sending  forth 
such  a  tremendous  blast  from  his  pipe,  as  would  have  quite 
done  for  King  Jammie's  '  counter  blast,'  "  his  peculiarity  is,  that 
he  appears  to  be  a  cross-breed  between  an  English  Methodist 
Parson  and  an  Itahan  Contadina. 

"  I  own  I  can't  trace  the  Methodist  parson,  but  there  is  some- 
thing foreign  about  him  certainly,  at  least,  wri-English,  though 
very  slightly  so  ;  and  people  do  discover  such  extraordinary, 
out-of-the-way  Hkenesses  for  a  fellow.  Now,  there's  Lady  Bab 
Farington  says  that  /  look  a  something  between  a  persecuted 
primitive  Christian,  and  a  disconsolate  modern  dandy." 

"  You  may  kiss  the  book  and  swear  to  it !  my  dear  fellow," 
laughed  Mr.  Caesar  Coakington,  pressing  a  little  volume  to 
Trevylian's  lips,  which  happened  to  be  a  small  pamphlet  en- 
titled, "  The  Toilet  of  Beauty,"  which  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars 
had  been  that  morning  studying. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  107 

"  I  think,"  said  Benaraby,  "  I  know  the  man  you  mean,  if 
he  is  tall,  slender,  with  intensely  black  or  rather  purple  hair, 
that  seems  to  have  a  sort  of  rich  hixuriant  bloom  upon  it  like  a 
cluster  of  Abyssinian  grapes ;  rery  white  forehead ;  straight 
nose  ;  dark  eyes,  whose  fire  seems  quenched  in  diamond  water; 
a  tinge  of  colour  like  an  eastern  sunset,  that  is  red  beneath,  with 
darkness  stealing  over  it ;  very  white  teeth  ;  no  moustache,  but 
a  dark  and  rather  forked  beard,  a  la  Henri  Trois ;  small 
hands  and  feet ;  and  particularly  graceful  in  his  movements  ?  " 

"  Prethithely  !  the  polithe  might  recognithe  him  from  your 
portrait.     Who  ith  he  ?  " 

"  I've  met  him  at  several  places  lately.  He's  a  Mr.  Lancas- 
ter." 

"  A  son  of  Bell  and  Lancaster's,  the  education  people,  I  sup- 
pose?" ha!  ha'd  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  as  if  he  had  uttered 
the  wittiest  thing  in  the  world,  instead  of  a  plagiarised  bull ;  and 
he  then  added,  between  two  or  three  parenthetical  whiffs,  "  Ah  ! 
just  the  sort  of  fellow  I  could  fancy  constituting  the  delight  of 
the  Baker  Street  parties,  and  Beulah  Spa  pic  nics." 

"  As  you  have  not  yet  appointed  me  Master  of  the  Rolls, 
Ferrars,  I  have  not  matriculated  in  Baker  Street,  and,  therefore, 
it  is  to  me  a  terra  incognita.  I  bid — Beulah,  all  my  wander- 
ings having  been  on  the  other  side  Jordan,  but  I  have  met  this 
Mr.  Lancaster  at  some  of  the  best  places  in  town.  The  first 
house  I  saw  him  at  was  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's,  and  her 
grease^  as  those  graceless  fellows  the  attaches  call  her,  seemed 
quite  to  overwhelm  him  with  attention.  I've  also  met  him  at 
the  Netherbys,  and  at  York  House." 

"  You  could  not  expect  less  of  '  the  aspiring  blood  of  Lancas- 
ter,' "  quoted  Mr.  C3esar  Coakington,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
occasionally  taking  out  Shakspeare  with  him  to  poach  on  the 
extremest  verge  of  a  pun. 

"  You  astonish  me  1  Benaraby,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
for  half  a  second  removing  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  It  is  a  habit  of  mine,  for  we  are  in  England,  of  which  you 


108  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

are  a  native^  I  believe?"  said  that  gentleman,  with  the  most 
refreshing  coolness,  again  levelling  his  tortoiseshell  eclipse  at 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars. 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  you^'"'  laughed  the  latter ;  "  for  no  one 
is  ever  astonished  at  anything  you  do.  But  I  confess  I  am  sur- 
prised to  hear  of  your  meeting  such  a  snob  as  I  contend  this 
Lancaster  is,  at  any  decent  place." 

Here  Clarke,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  valet,  brought  in  a  note 
which,  he  said,  Tim  had  brought,  and  to  which  he  was  to  take 
back  an  answer.  His  master  snatched  it  hastily  off  the  salver, 
tore  it  open,  and  seemed  to  run  his  eye  diagonally  over  it,  so  as 
to  take  in  its  contents  with  a  sort  of  ocular  jump,  as  it  were; 
which  contents  were  apparently  not  of  the  most  pleasing  or 
satisfactory  nature  ;  for,  biting  his  under  lip  sharply,  he  crum- 
pled it  up,  and  flung  it  into  the  fire,  and,  disdaining  the  com- 
monplace aid  of  the  poker,  thrust  it  between  the  bars  with  the 
point  of  his  slipper. 

"  Thath  not  one  of  the  acth  of 'firtht  love,'  I  hope,  Ferrars," 
drawled  Trevylian. 

"  D — n  first  love  ! "  was  the  muttered  reply,  accompanied 
by  a  slight  grinding  of  the  teeth,  and  a  strong  clinching  of  the 
right  hand. 

"  Any  answer,  sir  ?  "  asked  Clarke,  who  had  been  solacing 
his  impatience,  by  beating  a  scarcely  audible  homoeopathic 
devil's  tattoo  against  the  back  of  the  salver,  which  he  held 
tamboureen-wise. 

"Tell  Tim  to  bring  the  cab  round  directly.  No,  the 
horses." 

"  The  horses,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes, — no, — stop, — stay  !  My  horse  only — I  shan't  want 
him." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

And  so  this  admirable  valet  would  have  said  of  any  of  his 
master's  proceedings,  unless,  indeed,  his  iniquity  had  taken  the 
turn  of  not  paying  him  his  wages ;   for  there  would  be  little 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  109 

use  in  serving  his  satanic  majesty  unless  there  was  the  d — 1  to 
pay. 

"  Well,  ray  dear  fellows,  I  must  leave  you,"  said  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars,  rising;  "for  I'm  obliged  to  go  out." 

"  Sorry  to  hear  it,  my  dear  Ferrars,"  said  Mr.  Benaraby, 
between  a  yawn  and  a  sigh,  as  he  stretched  his  left  arm  above 
his  head,  and  the  other  down  towards  his  right  boot,  "  for  the 
being  obliged  to  go  out  is  one  of  the  very  worst  obligations 
which  a  ministry  like  ours,  so  recently  formed,  can  be  saddled 
with." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Clearly  .so  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Caesar  Coaking- 
ton,  taking  in  each  hand  a  piece  of  the  black  ribbon  to  which 
his  eye-glass  was  suspended,  so  as  to  make  it  whirl  round  like 
a  teetotum  or  a  politician ;  for  he  wore  a  glass  also,  as  a  sort  of 
outrider  to  his  spectacles. 

"  I  say,  Ferrars,"  cried  Trevylian,  calling  after  the  former,  as 
he  was  going  into  his  bed-room  to  complete  his  toilet,  "  I'm 
devilish  hungry,  and  I  meant  to  have  lunched  with  you  when 
I  came." 

"Well,  can't  you  ring,  and  get  something  to  eat;  I  believe 
— indeed  I  know — there  is  a  cold  guinea-fowl,  for  I  did  not 
touch  it  at  breakfast." 

After  he  had  answered  the  summons,  Clarke  soon  again 
reappeared  with  the  guinea-fowl,  ably  supported  by  a  j!?d^e  de 
foie  gras ;  and  Trevylian's  hunger  becoming  an  epidemic,  a 
lobster  had  to  be  sent  for,  though  Mr.  Carlo  Dials,  all  in  favour- 
ing them  with  a  graphically-acted  scene  from  one  of  his  own 
books,  loudly  voted  for  pickled  salmon  ! 

"Pickled  salmon  of  a  morning!"  cried  Trevylian,  with  in- 
effable disgust,  sinking  back  in  his  chair,  and  pushing  away  his 
plate. 

"  Capital !  "  laughed  Mr.  Coesar  Coakington  ;  "  Lord  Ogil- 
by's  '  hot  rolls  and  butter  in  July '  never  was  given  with  greater 
effect."  And  then  he  added,  turning  to  that  gentleman,  "  I  say, 
Benaraby,  I'd  give  you  some  of  this  white  hermitage,  only  there's 
no  glass." 


110  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Glass,  mj  dear  fellow  !  All  glasses  are  common-place 
vulgar  things,  except  the  '  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mould  of 
form.'  I'll  just  tell  you  how  I  used  to  manage  when  I  was  in 
the  East."  Whereupon,  he  proceeded  to  tell  them  a  wondrous 
tale  of  how  he  had  drunk  hock  out  of  his  hat  on  the  top  of  the 
pyramids,  whither  he  had  brought  a  viaticum  of  crocodile  sand- 
wiches in  his  pocket-book  !  To  the  enjoyment  of  which  legend, 
and  the  discusssion  of  something  more  substantial,  we  will 
leave  them. 


SECTION  II. 

"My  delights  were  with  the  sons  of  men." — Prov.  viil.  31. 

"  Infelix  opens  fumma,  quia  ponere  totum." — 

L.  Horatii  Flacci  de  Arte  Poetica. 

Well,  gratitude  is  a  great  virtue,  and,  like  all  other  virtues, 
sufficiently  rare  ;  consequently,  it  is  pleasing  to  be  able  to  record 
of  Archdeacon  Panmuir,  that  be  was  truly  grateful  to  tbink  that 
be  bad  secured  so  many  good  things  in  the  Church  before  the 
present  reign,  when  all  such  pluralities  were  abolished.  Being, 
therefore,  a  prebend  of  Westniinster,  as  well  as  a  canon  of  St. 
Paul's,  he  occupied  one  of  the  most  spacious,  as  well  as  one  of 
the  pleasantest  houses  on  the  Mall  in  St.  James's  Park ;  and  its 
handsome  dining-room  looked  particularly  pleasant  upon  that 
rare  thing  in  London,  a  fine  morning  in  May,  when  the  horse- 
chestnuts  were  just  bursting  into  leaf,  and  the  sun — more  fortu- 
nate than  many  other  inferior  luminaries — bad  actually  suc- 
ceeded, at  last,  in  shining  out  in  his  proper  sphere.  It  was  the 
morning  after  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  new  play,  and  a  supper 
which  had  been  given  in  honour  of  it  at  the  Duchess  of  Diplo- 
mat's, the  Morning  papers  were  all  aired  and  laid  on  the  break- 
fast-table, where  Edith  had  not  yet  appeared  to  make  the  tea, 
Mrs.  Dunbar  sat  by  the  fire  tatting,  while  the  Archdeacon  paced 
the  room,  like  Sir  Jacob  Kilmansegg  ;  that  is,  he 

"  Seemed  washing  his  hands  with  invisible  soap, 
In  imperceptible  water," — 


112  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

a  species  of  partial  and  phantom  ablution,  to  which  he  was  much 
addicted  when  any  person,  thing,  or  subject,  more  than  usually 
pre-occupied  his  attention.  Four  years  had  Edith  now  been 
under  his  roof,  without  one  of  his  plans  respecting  her  having 
been  crowned  with  fruition ;  for  to  no  place,  private  or  public, 
with  the  exception  of  church,  could  she  be  induced  to  go,  and 
even  then  she  had  the  bad  taste  to  prefer  a  quiet  church,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  town,  to  either  of  her  cousin's  gorgeous  cathe- 
drals and  the  privilege  of  hearing  him  preach ;  and  he  was  be- 
ginning sorely  to  repent  the  precipitate  step,  which  he  misno- 
mered  hospitality,  that  he  had  taken  in  inviting — nay,  insisting 
upon  his  relatives  taking  up  their  abode  with  him  ;  for  Samuel 
Panmuir  was  one  of  a  very  numerous  class,  who,  when  they  do 
"  cast  their  bread  upon  the  waters,"  do  not  like  waiting  for  the 
many  days  before  they  find  it,  but  would  like  to  see  it  forth- 
with return  to  them,  much  augmented  in  bulk,  from  the  rip- 
pling of  the  silver  tide  of  fortune.  It  was,  therefore,  a  matter  of 
great  satisfaction  to  him  that  Edith  had  at  length  broken  the 
ice  and  gone  into  public — not,  indeed,  to  the  theatre — that  w^as 
of  very  little  import,  as  it  was  not  any  relaxation  of  mind  or 
amusement  for  her  that  he  was  thinking  of — but  that  she  should 
have  a})peared  at  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's  afterwards,  and  pro- 
duced as  great  a  sensation  as  his  most  sanguine  expectations 
could  possibly  have  anticipated.  Still — for  there  is  always  an 
if  ov  a  hut  in  every  human  triumph — he  could  have  wished  the 
man  whom  the  Duchess  sent  in  to  their  box  w^ith  her  three  lines 
of  pencilled  invitation,  saying, — 

"J/a  toute  belle,  as  you  have  co7ne  out  of  your  shell  at  last, 
you  MUST  sup  with  me  to  night. — C.  D.," — 
had  not  monopolized  Edith  the  wdiole  evening  after,  keeping  off 
so  many  better  (which  in  the  Archdeacon's  vocabulary,  meant 
greater)  men ;  for  who,  and  what  was  he,  after  all  ? — nothing 
but  a  plain  Mister,  and  one  perfectly  unknown  for  much,  and 
long  as  the  reverend  gentleman  had  been  about  town,  he  had 
never,  till  the  previous  evening,  seen  him;    consequently,  he 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  113 

could  be  no  one  worth  seeing,  or  knowing — for  if  the  creme  de 
la  creme  were  to  be  met  at  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's,  there 
were  also  plenty  of  detrimental,  such  as  younger  brothers,  un- 
paid red  tapeists,  heiress-seekei"s,  and  political  connection-hunt- 
ers. Mrs.  Dunbar  only  having  been  to  the  play,  and  not  to  the 
Duchess's  after, — 

The  Archdeacon  addressing  her,  thus  expressed  some  of  the 
thoughts  that  were  circulating  through  his  mind. 

"  I  am  glad  Edith  has  at  length  come  to  her  senses,  and 
made  her  appearance  in  the  world." 

"  So  am  I,  very  glad  indeed,  poor  child,  for  it  is  bad  at  her 
age  to  begin  life  with  a  great  grief,  and  brood  over  it  incessant- 
ly ;  I  think  she  seemed  to  like  the  play,  and  I  hope  she  enjoyed 
herself  after  at  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's.  I  never  saw  her 
looking  prettier,  so  I'm  sure  she  was  admired." 

"  Yes,  but  the  worst  of  it  is,  she  don't  know  how  to  make 
the  most  of  herself." 

"Little  need  of  that,"  said  the  old  lady  innocently;  "for  at 
her  age,  and  with  l)pu-beauty,  'a  bonny  bride  is  soon  busked' — 
as  we  say  in  Scotland." 

"  Tush  !  I  don't  mean  ihat^''  rejoined  Samuel  Panrauir : 
"  women  are  always  thinking  of  dress.  I  meant,  that  with  her 
appearance,  and  the  entre  into  the  best  houses,  which  I  have 
been  able  to  give  her,  she  may,  at  least  she  ought^  to  make  a 
most  brilliant  match  ;  which  I  fear  she  will  not  do,  if  she  allows 
a  set  of  nobodys  to  dangle  about  her." 

"  What  you  mean,  Panmuir  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dunbar,  looking 
up  over  her  spectacles. 

"  I  mean  that,  that  Mr.  Lancaster,  who  brought  the  Duchess's 
invitation  into  our  box,  seemed  to  hover  round  her  for  the  rest 
of  the  evening  to  the  exclusion  of  every  one  else." 

"  Well  I'm  sure  I  thought  him  an  uncommonly  nice  young- 
man,  very  handsome,  and  so  well-bred  too  ! — for  there  are  fev/ 
of  his  age  now-a-days,  and  in  this  great  town,  would  be  as  civil 
and  attentive  to  an  old  body  like  me  as  he  was,  repeating  every 
thing  to  me  that  I  could  not  quite  catch  in  the  play." 


114  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Tlie  Archdeacon  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"there  is  no  use  in  arguing  with  such  unsophisticated  folly!  " 
and  then  added  aloud,  as  he  made  a  sudden  pause  in  his  peram- 
bulations— 

"  Another  thing,  too,  I  don't  at  all  approve  of  the  eternal 
books,  notes,  and  bouquets,  that  keep  coming  from  Mr.  Ponson- 
by  Ferrai-s,  for  though  I  don't  know  a  more  rising  man,  and  one 
more  sure  eventually  to  succeed  in  the  world,  yet,  a  girl  with 
Edith's  advantages,  both  natural  and  acquired,  may  fairly  aspire 
to  a  ready-made  position,  and  not  have  to  toil  up  the  hill  with 
any  trading  politician." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  he  may  be,  and 
no  doubt  is,  very  clever,  and  all  that ;  but  I'm  sure  Edith  don't 
think  about  him,  beyond  his  having  been  poor  Donald's  friend, 
and  I  know  Alciphron  Murray  had  not  a  good  opinion  of  him, 
and  that  would  go  a  great  way  with  Edith." 

"  Fudge  !  what  on  earth  should  a  man  like  Murray,  never  in 
the  world,  and  always  in  the  clouds,  know  about  such  a  man 
as  Ponsonby  Ferrars ;  one  of  the  most  talented  and  rising  men 
of  the  day,  and  who  only  lacks  two  things  in  my  opinion,  to 
make  him  a  most  eligible  match  for  Edith  ;  and  those  are,  a 
dukedom,  or  at  least  a  peerage,  and  a  hundred  thousand  a  year. 
Ah  !  I  had  had  great  hopes,  that  when  that  Duke  of  Liddes- 
dale  bought  Glenfern,  he  being  a  young  man,  matters  might 
have  been  arranged  for  Edith  still  to  retain  the  place,  with  the 
addition  of  a  ducal  coronet ;  but  he's  worse  than  a  will-o'-the 
wisp,  there  is  no  coming  up  with  him,  for  four  times  have 
I  been  to  Glenfern  within  the  last  two  years,  and  twice  in  the 
grouse  season  too,  and  all  I  can  ever  hear  is  that  he  was  there 
for  a  few  days  last  week.  But  I  must  say,  he  has  improved  the 
place  wonderfully,  for  instead  of  the  shepherds'  huts  scattered 
about  the  moor,  he  has  built  the  prettiest  Swiss  chalets  imagina- 
ble. And  Amy  Verner's,  and  all  the  houses  in  the  village,  are 
the  most  picturesque  cluster  of  Elizabethan  buildings  you  ever 
saw,  and  harmonize  admirably  with  the  old  church.  Well ! 
well !  it  is  a  thousand  pities  that  Edith — "  , 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  115 

But  what  these  multiplied  causes  for  commiseration  were, 
remained  untold,  for  at  that  moment  Edith  made  her  appear- 
ance, looking  much  more  like  a  thousand  graces  than  a  thou- 
sand pities.  Having  kissed  her  grandmother,  then  shaking 
hands  with  her  cousin,  she  rang  for  the  kettle  and  proceeded  to 
make  the  tea  ;  in  doing  so,  the  flame  of  the  lamp  beneath  the 
kettle  caught  the  lace  at  the  end  of  her  sleeve,  and  in  trying  to 
extinguish  it,  the  little  Venetian  chain  she  wore  round  her  neck 
got  entangled  with  the  silver  chain  of  the  kettle,  so  that  she 
might  have  been  seriously  burnt  had  not  Mrs.  Dunbar  started 
from  her  seat,  and  twisted  her  napkin  round  the  flaming  wrist. 

"Take  care,  child  !"  cried  she,  as  soon  as  the  danger  was 
over,  "  or  we  shall  really  think  that  you  have  made  up  for  lost 
time  last  night,  and  have  already  fallen  in  love.  I  hope  it's  not 
with  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  ?  " 

"My  dear  grandmamma,"  said  Edith,  in  a  half  disclaiming, 
half  reproachful  tone, — at  the  same  time  blushing  up  to  her 
temples — 

"  Because  now,"  continued  the  old  lady,  as  she  put  some 
more  sugar  candy  into  her  coflfee,  "  do  you  know  that  I  like  that 
other  young  man  who  came  into  our  box  last  night  much  bet- 
ter ;  something  so  nice  and  amiable,  and  well-bred  about  him ; 
besides,  I  hate  carrotty  whiskers  !  Never  marry  a  man  with  fiery 
whiskers,  my  dear  ;  for  they  are  apt  to  have  tempers  to  match." 

"  What  a  dear,  funny,  naughty  granny  you  are,"  said  Edith 
laughing,  as  she  got  up  and  kissed  her ;  which  was  an  admi- 
rable manoeuvre,  for  hiding  her  face  from  the  Archdeacon's 
scrutinizing  gaze,  which  she  felt  was  at  that  moment  upon  her, 
in  all  the  fulness  of  its  vacuity  ! 

"  Ahem  !  ahem  ! "  said  he,  taking  the  pith  out  of  a  roll,  in 
order  that  there  might  be  something  pithy  about  what  he  was 
going  to  say,  "  What  did  you  think  of  *  First  Love  ? ' " 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Mrs.  Dunbar  shaking  her  head  before  Edith 
could  reply,  "  it  is  only  at  my  age  people  tell  truly  and  honestly 
what  they  think  of  first  love  !  at  hers  they  never  do." 


116  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Because  at  mine,"  said  Edith  with  one  of  her  enchanting 
smiles,  "  at  least  as  far  as  /  am  concerned — they  have  had  no 
opportunity  of  judging:  but  with  regard  to  the  play,  I  thought 
it  a  pretty  play  enough,  badly  acted,  and  as  for  the  hero  !  had  I 
been  Eva,  I  never  would  have  married  him." 

"  And  why  not  ?  I'm  sure  he  was  a  most  devoted,  passion- 
ate lover,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,"  insisted  the  Archdeacon. 

"  Because  I  could  never  esteem  a  man  who  had  so  dehber- 
ately  deceived  me." 

"  Ta  !  ta  1  ta  !  all  fair  in  love  and  war,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Then  I  should  ever  be  at  war  with  love." 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  well  come,  that  is  better  than  like  most 
young  ladies,  being  in  love  with  war,  and  following  the  drum  ; 
and  so  committing  partial  suicide,  by  cutting  themselves  off  in 
the  flower  of  their  youth,  with  a  captain  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment, and  country  quarters  !  But  talking  of  country  quarters 
reminds  me  of  the  War  Office ;  and  you  must  go  to  Lady 
McToady's  to-night,  for  now  that  you  have  been  out,  she  will 
be  quite  offended  if  you  don't  attend  her  receptions  puctually." 

"  If  I  must,  I  must !  "  said  Edith,  with  a  resigned  sigh. 

"  I  wonder  if  Mr.  Pon— " 

"  Did  you  say  more  cream  ?"  interrupted  Edith,  pushing  it  over 
to  the  old  lady,  whom  she  saw  with  nervous  trepidation  was  again 
about  to  dance  her  favourite  Marionette,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars ; 
in  order  to  prevent  which,  she  added,  "  Do  you  know,  grand- 
mamma, it  struck  me  that  I  had  seen  that  Mr.  Lancaster's  face 
somewhere  before ;  and  I  have  been  thinking  and  thinking 
where  it  could  have  been  ;  and  now  I  know  :  don't  you  remem- 
ber "  (and  here  she  sighed  heavily),  "  four  years  ago,  when  you 
came  to  take  me  from  Madame  Beaucarmes,  and  we  were  at 
the  Hotel  du  Rhin,  on  the  Place  Vendome,  getting  out  of  the 
carnage  one  day,  I  dropped  my  glove,  and  a  gentleman  who 
was  passing  at  the  time  picked  it  up  and  gave  it  to  me  ? " 

"  No,  indeed,  my  dear,  I  don't ;  but  I  dare  say  you  do  ;  for 
I  well  remember  when  I  was  a  girl,  at  a  great  ball  at  Dalkeith, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  117 

at  the  marriage  of  the  then  '  young  Biiccleugh,'  dropping  a  rose- 
bud out  of  my  bosom,  while  dancing  a  minuet  with  young 
Lovat,  and  the  McGregor  picked  it  up,  and  shewed  it  me,  seven 
and  thirty  years  after,  when  I  was  a  widow,  but  unhke  the  las- 
sie in  the  song,  I  was  '  o'er  auld  to  marry  then.' " 

"  Well,"  laughed  Edith,  "  there  was  no  such  romance  about 
my  glove ;  but  Mr.  Lancaster  mystified  me  very  much,  by  say- 
ing that  last  night  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  seen  me ;  and 
I  *now  recollect  that  he  was  the  person,  who,  passing  by  at  the 
time,  had  the  civility  to  stoop  and  pick  up  my  glove." 

"  Humph  !  rather  dangerous,  my  dear  Edith,  to  become 
hand-in-glove  with  a  man  you  pick  up  in  the  streets,"  depreca- 
ted the  Archdeacon,  shaking  his  own  head,  and  breaking  that 
of  a  third  egg. 

"  But  I  have  not  become  hand-in-glove  with  him  ;  neither 
did  I  become  acquainted  with  him  in  the  street ;  unless,  indeed, 
you  use  the  word  in  the  slang  acceptation  of  the  term  ;  as  all 
the  young  men  call  Diplomat  House  :  '  T/w  Street ; '  and  the 
duchess's  soirees,  of  whatsoever  description,  whether  dinners, 
concerts,  or  receptions,  '  Downing  Streets.' " 

"  Oh,  of  course  he's  eligible,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,"  re- 
joined Samuel  Panmuir,  "  or  you  would  not  have  met  him  there ; 
only  to  oblige  the  duke,  the  duchess  sometimes  asks  strange 
sort  of  people  ;  I  mean  people  not  at  all  in  her  set,  and  that  one 
may  hear  of  but  don't  generally  see  ;  such  as  artists  and  printers, 
and  those  sort  of  people." 

"  Printers  ? " 

"  Well,  authors,  and  newspaper  people  ;  it's  all  the  same 
jkind  of  thing." 

"  But  I  thought  authors  were  rather  sought  after  in  society, 
and  called  lions  :  for  instance,  look  at  Mr.  Benaraby,  and  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars,  and — " 

"  Oh,  those  are  men  of  a  certain  standing,  who  may  be  call- 
ed amateur  authors  ;  they  don't  write  in  garrets  for  their  bread, 
though  they  may  write  for  their  claret  and  their  venison,  or  even 


118  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

for  their  opera  boxes ;  but  besides  they  have  a  certain  pohtical 
influence,  and  that  is  everything  in  this  country." 

"  Well,  but  Mr.  Carlo  Dials  ?  he  has  no  pohtical  influence, 
and  I  believe  he  does —  I  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  the  press,"  again  interrupted  the  Archdeacon  ; 
"  besides,  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule,  and  one  argues  from 
the  nde^  and  not  from  the  excerptions  ;  moreover,  he  has  had 
luck,  and  there  is  no  system  or  science  by  which  that  can  either 
be  acquired  or  explained." 

Edith  was  silent ;  and  as  the  Archdeacon,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this' conversation,  had  done  a  very  unusual  thing, 
namely,  alluded  to  the  Duke  of  Diplomat,  a  thing  seldom  or 
never  done  in  society,  we  shall  take  this  opportunity  of  stating, 
that  there  actually  was  such  a  person  ;  but  he  was  almost  a 
myth,  being  a  model  husband  :  that  is,  he  was  seldom  heard 
of,  and  never  seen.  In  fact,  the  poor  man  was  always  ill,  which 
is  a  way  some  men  have  of  giving  their  wives  their  widowhood 
by  instalments,  and  like  money  paid  in  the  same  way,  though 
it  is  not  so  advantageous  as  the  sum  total,  still,  in  both  instances, 
it  evinces  an  effort  to  do  what  is  right,  and  on  that  account,  is 
acceptable. 

The  poor  Duke  of  Diplomat,  then,  being  a  sort  of  demi-mort, 
it  may  be  admissible  to  pass  upon  him  the  epitaphical  panegyric 
of  saying,  that  a  more  innocuous,  self-suflacing,  tractable,  liberal, 
non-exacting,  never-grumbling,  anti-lord-and-masterish  animal, 
of  the  genus  husband,  never  existed ;  for  live  he  did  not,  nor 
was  it  necessary  that  he  should :  for,  as  in  some  families  the 
title  and  estates  descend  in  the  female  line,  so  in  others  (though 
even  more  rarely  than  in  the  case  of  hereditary  honours)  all 
marital  authority  centres  in  the  wives ;  and,  as  in  the  former 
instance,  gives  every  privilege  and  immunity ;  with  the  solitary 
exception  of  sitting  in  the  House  of  Lords  ;  for  which,  however, 
absolute  control  over  their  own  lords  may  be  considered  as  some 
sort  of  compensation  ;  so  at  least  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat  ami- 
ably thought  it,  and  therefore  never  insisted  upon  taking  the 
oaths  in  the  Upper  House. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  119 

Breakfast  being  ended,  the  Archdeacon  retired  to  his  study, 
where  he  generally  spent  two  or  three  hours  in  solemn  seclu- 
sion ;  reading  the  papers,  and  occasionally  even  such  light  lite- 
rature, or  profane  works,  as  to  have  read  openly — that  is,  in  the 
dining,  or  drawing-room,  might  have  compromised  both  his  dig- 
nity and  his  divinity.  Mrs.  Dunbar  having  divers  of  those  in- 
numerable little  potterings  about,  to  which  all  old  ladies  are 
more  or  less  addicted,  and  in  which  they  are  all  unanimous  in 
disliking  to  be  followed,  left  Edith  free  to  enjoy  the  solitude  of 
her  own  room,  and  the  crowd  of  her  own  thoughts,  which  was 
at  once  a  luxury  and  a  relief;  for,  though  she  loved  her  grand- 
mother sincerely,  yet  time  had  placed  that  wide  icy  gulf  be- 
tween them,  which  the  warm,  buoyant  thoughts  of  youth  sel- 
dom succeed  in  clearing,  but  generally  fall  in,  and  perish  in  the 
attempt.  The  lov^e  we  feel  for  age  is  like  that  w^e  lavish  upon 
childhood — of  a  very  protecting,  generous,  unselfish  nature;  as 
in  either  case  there  can  be  no  current  reciprocity  of  thoughts 
and  sentiments  to  equalize  the  compact.  And  what  did  Edith 
think  of?  What  does  the  night- wind  think  of  when  it  whis- 
pers to  the  flowers; — or  the  misty  and  lurid  nebulae,  when  it 
looks  on  the  stars  till  it  veils  their  light? — or  the  rolling,  rip- 
phng  waves,  when  they  murmur  strange,  world-old  legends  to 
the  hstening  shells?  Ask  the  night-wind  ;  and  a  sigh  shall  be 
your  answer.  Ask  the  stars  ;  they  will  palpitate  in  light,  but 
not  reveal  for  whom  or  what  they  scintillate.  Ask  the  shell  ; 
nay,  press  its  cold  lips  still  closer  to  your  ear,  and  you  shall  dis- 
tinctly hear  the  echo  of  the  murmuring  wave, — but  not  the  tale 
it  told ! 


SECTION  III 

*' Thou  shalt  see  greater  abominations  than  these" 

Bze^.  viii.  16. 
"  O  Lord,  that  seest  from  yon  stany  height, 
Centred  in  one,  the  future  and  the  past,, 
Fashioned  in  thine  own  image,  see  how  fast 
The  world  obscures  in  me  what  once  was  bright" 
Feancisco  Aldana. 

Translated  ly  Longfellow. 

During  the  four  seasons  that  Edith  had  been  in  London,  with- 
out going  out  until  -within  the  last  five  weeks  (for  that  period 
had  now  elapsed  since  her  dehut  at  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's)^ 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  made  very  good  use  of  his  time,  as 
far  as  offering  of  books,  flowers,  and  magazines  went — which 
latter  generally  contained  elaborate  pufis  of  himself,  or  his 
works,  or  both ;  with  still  more  elaborate  hints  of  what  a  prize 
it  would  be  for  any  woman  to  secure  the  affections  of  such  a 
man  ;  as  from  his  writings  (!)  it  was  evident,  notwithstanding 
the  brilliancy  and  altitude  of  his  intellectual  achievements,  that 
his  heart  was  a  well-spring  of  those  gentler  and  purer  domestic 
affections,  which  make  of  home  a  terrestrial  paradise,  like  Ho- 
race's description  of  Baiae — 

"  Nullus  in  orbe  locus  Baiis 
Praelucet  amornis " 

These  offerings  were,  moreover,  for  the  most  part  accompanied 
with  voluminous  notes,  written  in  a  close,  cramped  hand,  and 


I 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  121 

containing  a  liappy  mixture  of  wit,  gossip,  philosophy,  politics, 

and  sentiment,  of  which  latter  all  the  former  were  but 

the  envelopes.  Now,  had  all  this  been  systematic,  nothing 
could  have  been  more  scientific,  but  it  was  not :  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  was  merely  playing  with  his  uttermost  skill  such  cards 
as  he  held  in  his  hand  ;  but  for  that  matter,  nine  times  out  of 
ten,  Chance  is  the  most  subtle  diplomatist  possible ;  and  its 
combinations  are  often  far  more  artistic  than  the  most  astute 
plans  of  human  forethought.  For  instance,  had  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  had  free  access  to  Edith,  in  all  probability  he  would 
never  have  made  as  much  way  in  her  thoughts  as  he  had  al- 
ready done  ;  from  being  too  precipitate  in  his  attempts  to  make 
more.  For  the  seed  of  all  feelings,  be  they  those  of  love  or 
hatred,  are  first  sown  in  the  head,  and  germinate  in  the  mind 
before  they  fructify  and  become  passions  in  the  heart;  and  it  is 
impossible  not  to  think  about  a  person  who  is  constantly  pla- 
cing themselves  allegorically  before  us  in  a  series  of  nameless, 
but  apropos,  and  therefore  acceptable  attentions.  And,  so  far 
had  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  advanced  into  what  he  himself 
would  have  called  "  the  seat  of  war,^''  that  he  had  succeeded  in 
castino;  the  full-lenofth  outline  of  his  shadow  across  the  still  va- 
cant  arena  of  Edith's  thoughts.  Her  existence  up  to  the  present 
time  had  been  a  very  wide  blank,  and  he  had  helped  to  inscribe 
upon  it  at  least  a  something  that  had  interested  her  imagina- 
tion ;  so  that  a  day  which  brought  no  book,  note,  or  flowers, 
from  him,  was  to  her  a  dies  nan,  and  few  women  are — but  posi- 
tively no  girl  is — insensible  to  fame,  celebrity,  notoriety,  popu- 
larity, or  whatever  the  real  name  of  the  Proteus  Reputation 
be  !  So  indisputable  is  this  fact,  that  were  maids  a  river  fish, 
Isaak  Walton  would  unquestionably  have  recommended  it  as 
an  infallible  bait  for  their  capture ;  and  Edith  thought  it  was 
so  good !  so  kind  !  of  him,  occupied,  and  more  than  occupied 
as  he  was,  and  with  so  much  at  once  to  excite  and  to  satisfy 
his  vanity  in  the  world,  yet  to  think  of  her,  and  to  find  time  to 
minister  to  her  wants,  and  endeavour  to  alleviate  the  dullness 
6 


122  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

of  her  obscure  and  isolated  existence.  Then  to  have  he)'  opinion 
appealed  and  deferred  to  by  this  man,  to  whom  the  world  ap- 
pealed and  deferred  ! — there  was  a  deep  spell  in  this  ;  for  it  is 
not  that  women  have  7nore  vanity  than  men,  but  it  is  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind  :  theirs  being  a  vanity  of  the  heart,  which  is  a 
parasite  of  the  affections — whereas,  that  of  men  is  of  the  head, 
and  of  the  fungi  genus,  of  rapid  growth,  self-induced,  and  self- 
supporting  ;  of  enormous  summit,  and  small  foundation  ;  and 
irrigated  into  rank  luxuriance,  by  the  very  influences  that  would 
damp  and  bhght  other  and  more  valuable  productions.  But 
most  of  all,  there  was  in  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars^  letters  (though 
always  unanswered  by  her,  save  in  the  brief  acknowdedgment  of 
a  single  line,  or  an  equally  brief  message  of  verbal  thanks)  a 
sort  of  electric  sympathy  of  thought,  and  opinion,  which  ap- 
peared to  her  almost  suiDernatural,  and  were  to  her  pent-up 
feelings,  like  refreshing  showers  to  the  parched  and  arid  desert^ 
after  the  empty  pomposity  of  the  Archdeacon,  and  the  uncon- 
genial talJcings  of  Mrs.  Dunbar,  whose  conversation,  like  that  of 
most  very  old  people,  was  chiefly  retrospective  and  rechavffee 
of  herself.  And  then  came  Edith's  most  critical  crisis  of  all, 
which  was  her  excuses  to,  and  justification  of  herself,  for  think- 
ing so  much  about  this  man  ;  the  final  summing  up  being,  that 
Alciphron  Murray  was  prejudiced,  and  therefore  must  be  wrong, 
and  poor  Donald  right ;  or  he  never  would  have  felt  the  friend- 
ship he  had  done  for  him — a  friendship,  by-the-bye,  which  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  had,  as  far  as  young  Panmuir  was  concerned 
— and  still  more  so,  as  regarded  himself — greatly  exaggerated. 
And  now  that  she  went  into  the  world,  and  that  they  met  al- 
most daily  and  nightly,  despite  the  many  passages  in  his  letters 
which  might  have  led  her  to  suppose,  that  it  was  only  the  op- 
portunity he  wanted  to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her,  so  as  not 
coarsely  to  obtrude  his  love  upon  her  grief — still,  though  these 
opportunities  now  abounded,  no  v/ord  of  the  kind  was  ever 
uttered  by  him.  Notwithstanding  which,  there  was  that  tyran- 
nous espionnage  of  look  and  manner,   that  left  no  glance  or 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  12.1 

movement  of  hers  free  ;  that  evoking  of  the  mystic,  and  the 
occult,  in  the  midst  of  the  commonplace,  which  a  dominant 
sjDirit  can  always  exercise  upon  its  selected  vassal  unobserved 
and  unsuspected  byall  others.  In  short,  in  every  crowd  where 
they  met,  he  traced,  as  it  were,  an  atmospheric  magic  circle ; 
of  which,  while  she  herself  was  the  centre,  he  was  nevertheless 
the  archetype.  In  thus  haunting  her,  he  had  created  in  her 
mind  an  artificial  want  of  his  presence,  which  grew  at  length 
into  a  sort  of  antithetical  morbidity  ;  for  upon  entering  any  room 
where  he  was  not,  and  consequently  where  his  cold  pale  eyes 
did  not  "  compass  her  round,"  she  felt  at  once  a  disappointment 
and  a  relief.  Oh  !  if  there  is  a  perilous  or  a  pitiable  position  on 
earth,  it  is  that  of  a  young  girl,  just  entering  the  world,  who 
has  neither  mother,  sister,  nor  any  one  near  enough,  or  true 
enough,  to  let  her  heart  strike  befoi-e  ;  for  the  chronology  of  the 
affections,  hke  that  of  kingdoms,  is  the  record  of  events  rather 
than  of  time  ;  and  how  often  does  one  of  these  poor  young 
hearts,  when  down,  want  winding  up ;  and  when  wound  up, 
want  regulating  ;  while  for  lack  of  such  care,  full  many  a  main- 
spring has  snapped,  and  the  rigid  hand  of  time  pointed  immov- 
ably and  uselessly  to  one  long  ijast  fatal  hour  !  Edith  felt  this 
want  keenly  ;  but  it  is  only  an  aggravation  of  misery  to  be  fully 
sensible  of  an  evil  that  we  cannot  remedy.  In  youth,  all,  or 
nearly  all,  our  passions  and  feelings  are  to  ourselves  hieroglyph- 
ics, and  it  is  not  till  the  scroll  of  life  is  far  unrolled,  that  we  ac- 
quire sufficient  knowledge  to  decipher  them,  and  then,  cui  bono? 
since  by  that  time,  they  have  all  become  equally  a  dead  letter 
to  us.  In  vain  I^iith  studied  and  puzzled  over  these  symboli- 
cal archives  of  her  own  mind,  without  being  able  to  come  to 
any  solution.  She  did  not  love  him,  oh  no  I  she  was  sure  she 
did  not  love  him,  therefore  she  wished  she  could  either  like  him 
more,  or  think  of  him  less,  for  with  that  freemasonry  which  all 
women  possess  in  such  matters,  totally  independent  of  the 
slightest  admixture  of  vanity,  she  felt  that  Mr.  Lancaster  did 
really  love  her,  though  his  manner  was  so  quiet,  so  concen- 


124  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

trated  and  so  imecstatic,  compared  with  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars' 
Hecla  demeanour — for  while  his  exterior  was  ice  itself  to  the 
generality  of  persons,  to  her  the  volcano  ever  sent  forth  suffi- 
cient evidence  of  its  raging  within.  Personally,  it  was  impos- 
sible not  to  admire,  esteem,  and  hke  Mr.  Lancaster  better,  for 
in  the  first  place  he  had  nature's  letter  of  recommendation — 
beauty,  and  next,  there  was  about  him  that  perfect  absence,  or 
rather  that  total  abnegation  of  self,  which  has  its  origin  in  good 
feeling,  and  manifests  itself  in  good  breeding,  that  rare !  moral 
magnet,  which  attracts  all,  and  retains,  as  w^ell  as  attracts, 
while  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  (she  could  neither  deny  nor  ex- 
tenuate the  fact),  was  both  imperious  and  ill-tempered,  and 
consequently  often  exceedingly  ill-bred,  as  all  exacting  people 
are  ;  still,  with  this  manifest  superiority  on  the  side  of  Mr.  Lan- 
caster, why  did  she  so  often  wish  that  he  had  the  talent,  the 
prestige,  the  celebrity,  in  fact,  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  though 
on  the  other  hand,  he  might  have  talents  for  aught  she  knew, 
although  he  had  never  displayed  them  in  a  voluminous  corre- 
spondence like  the  former,  or  shone  by  monopolizing  the  whole 
conversation,  for  in  her  society  he  said  little,  whatever  he  might 
do  in  that  of  others.  Yet  never — and  here  again  Mr.  Lancas- 
ter had  a  decided  and  most  flattering  advantage  over  the  clever 
man,  had  he  known  it — did  Edith  catch  herself  wishing  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  any  of  Mr.  Lancaster's  attributes  ;  these  feel- 
ings were  inexplicable  to  herself,  yet  they  were  the  very  natural 
results,  of  the  causes  in  which  they  had  their  origin. 

Mr.  Lancaster  had  had  a  sohd  and  wmrerscrZ  education,  that 
is,  every  faculty,  beginning  with  the  moral  ones,  and  extending 
to  the  intellectual,  had  been  equally  developed,  and  carefully 
trained,  which  had  made  of  his  character  an  harmonious  whole, 
which  did  not  indeeci  dazzle  like  a  meteor,  but  gradually  pene- 
trated into  the  hearts  of  others,  and  vivified  their  esteem,  like 
a  fixed  and  steady  luminary,  as  was  the  principle  from  which 
his  every  act  emanated  or  by  which  they  were  controlled.  Now 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  on  the  contrary,  had  i-eceived  a  purely 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  125 

classical  education,  according  to  the  monstrous,  thougli  long  es- 
tablished system  of  our  public  schools  and  colleges,  and  (as  has 
been  truly  remarked  by  a  late  eloquent  divine* — "  The  present 
state  of  classical  education  cultivates  the  imagination  a  great 
deal  too  much,  and  other  habits  of  mind  a  great  deal  too  little, 
and  trains  up  many  young  men  in  a  style  of  elegant  imbecility.") 
Alas !  if  the  evil  was  even  limited  to  the  "  elegant  imbecihty," 
it  would  be  no  great  matter  (that  is,  as  long  as  the  said  young 
gentlemen  were  sufficiently  well  off  to  indulge  in  this  elegant 
imbecility),  but  it  is  not ;  for  in  this  system  which  totally  ex- 
cludes the  cultivation  of  a  single'moral,  or  any  other  faculty  hut 
the  intellectual  ones,  its  produce  (when  grafted  upon  nullities) 
may  indeed  be  elegant  Imbeciles !  but  when  its  seeds  are  scat- 
tered amidst  the  deep  furrows  of  strong  passions  and  decided 
characters,  its  fruits  must  be,  and  are,  unscrupulous  villains  and 
accomplished  profligates.  For  after  a  young  gentleman  has  for 
eighteen  years  assiduously  and  exclusively  devoted  all  the  ener- 
gies of  his  mind  to  an  analytic  study  of  the  intrigues  of  Jupiter, 
and  the  orgies  of  Olympus,  without  one  sanctifying  holy  home, 
or  counteracting  moral  influence,  can  it  be  expected  that  he 
should  not  at  the  termination  of  such  studies  think,  and  feel 
himself  fully  competent  to  "go  and  do  likewise;"  and  beings 
trained  in  such  a  school  are  perfectly  incapable  of  love  properly 
so  called,  whose  sacred  fire  purifies,  elevates,  and  sublimates,  the 
most  earthy  natures,  for  all  so  trained  know  nothing  of  the  true 
divinity,  having  graduated  under  the  heathen  Cupid,  that  Igna- 
tius Loyola  of  Olympus,  and  having  consequently  no  better 
worship  to  offer  at  his  shrine,  than  the  hollow  and  treacherous 
chicane  of  his  own  crooked  code,  and  while  this  high  state  of 
cultivation  of  the  ideal  or  intellectual,  to  the  total  neglect  of  the 
moral  and  the  real,  because  the  eternal,  is  sure  to  cause  them 
to  make  victims,  more  or  less,  of  all  who  come  within  their 
sphere,  we  question  whether  it  is  even  a  source  of  spurious  hap- 

*The  Rev.  Sidney  Smith. 


126  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

piness  to  themselves  ?  and  rather  think  not,  being  of  Grimins' 
opinion,  that  "  le  peu  de  honheur  dont  nous  pouvons  jouir^  ne 
vient — il  pas  Men  plus  de  nos  sentimens,  que  de  nos  idees  ?  et 
tout  sentiment  qui  nepeut  se  communiquer  aux  autres,  fut — ce 
meme  la  gloire,  parait  Men  triste,  et  Men  froid.''^  *  And  what 
in  the  whole  arcana  of  our  physiology  is  at  once  so  insatiable, 
and  so  incommunicable,  as  intense  egotism  ?  which  is  sure  to 
be  the  first  and  sole  offspring  of  this  exclusive  union  between 
the  classical  and  the  intellectual. 

*  The  little  happiness  of  which  we  are  capable,  do  we  not  derive 
it  rather  from  our  feelings,  than  from  ideas  ?  and  all  feelings  which 
cannot  be  communicated  to  others,  were  it  even  that  of  fame,  or 
triumph,  would  be  both  tame  and  cold. 


SECTION  IV. 

"* '  There  hath  net  failed  one  word  of  all  his  good  promise." — 1  Kings,  viii.  56. 
"Better  is  it  to  be  of  an  humble  spirit,  with  the  lowly,  than  to  divide  the  spoil  with 

the  proud." — Frov.  xvi.  18. 
•*'  For  the  commonest  minds  are  fall  of  thoughts  that  would  do  credit  to  the  rarest" 

— Tapper's  Proverbial  Philosophy. 

It  was  between  five  and  six  o'clock  of  an  evening  in  June, — the 
rain  having  fallen  in  torrents  all  tlie  day,  and  the  snn  for  the 
first  time  bursting  out  in  great  glory  from  amidst  the  black 
«louds,  and  flinging  his  largesses  down  indiscriminately  upon 
the  two  rapid  little  muddy  rivers  that  rolled  on  either  side  of 
Oxford  Street,  when  a  Brompton  omnibus  stopped  at  the  cor- 
ner of  Dean  Street,  from  which  a  thin,  middle-aged,  middle- 
sized,  dark,  and  plain-featured  woman  alighted,  dressed  in  those 
elaborate  and  full-blown  weeds,  which  women  in  the  middle 
-classes  so  often  take  a  long  lease  of,  not  so  much  from  excessive 
grief  for  "the  dear  departed,"  as  from  excessive  economy,  in 
order  to  recover  the  interest  of  the  large  capital  sunk  in  crape 
at  the  first  starting  ;  or  it  may  be,  when  the  wearer  has  no  great 
amount  of  personal  attractions,  as  in  the  present  instance, — a 
sort  of  "  giving  notice"  that  there  was  one  discriminating  mor- 
tal who  thought  otherwise  ;  though,  alas !  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  she  "  e'er  can  look  upon  his  like  again  ! "  and  hence 
this  terrible  maelstrom  of  black  crape.  Paramatta,  and  gauffred 
muslin.     The  figure  thus  engulfed,  and  who  was  now  alighting 


128  *  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

from  the  omnibus,  was  slightly  marked  with  the  small  pox,  her 
face  and  forehead  both  red,  and  the  forehead  so  high,  that  it 
looked  as  if  its  owner  had  treated  her  hair  like  a  wig,  and 
pushed  it  very  far  back,  to  cool  the  fire  that  w^as  raging  in  her 
face ;  her  eyes  were  dark,  and  dancing  here,  there,  and 
everywhere  at  once,  which  enabled  them  to  catch,  with  the  dex- 
terous rapidity  of  an  Indian  juggler,  the  numerous  eyeballs  they 
went  in  quest  of,  while,  she  laboured  under  the  illusion  that  the 
former  were  always  in  search  of  hers.  Her  nose  was  short, 
straight,  and  spikey,  with  an  upper  lip  so  long,  that  it  looked 
like  the  model  of  a  spout ;  her  teeth  had  been  good,  and  were 
fii-mly  and  decisively  set  in  her  head,  but  were  now  in  mourning 
also ;  her  figure  was  neat,  and  trim,  as  most  very  small  figures 
are ;  and  peeping  out,  like  some  neglected  flower,  fi-om  beneath 
all  these  weeds.  She  thought  it  irresistible.  Indeed,  she  had 
an  idea — or  rather  a  conviction — that  the  very  circumstance  of 
wearing  weeds,  was  a  bait,  a  snare,  a  spiinge — in  short,  a  con- 
crete magnet,  for  attracting  all  the  floating  gallantry,  and  itiner- 
ant immorality  extant ;  and  it  was  astonishing  the  fierce  strug- 
gles, and  imaginary  persecutions,  she  sustained  on  their  account. 
And  yet  such  was  the  tenacious  afiection  of  w^hat  she  called 
"  her  widowed  art^  to  the  memory  of  poor  dear  Mr.  (for  she 
never  omitted  his  title)  Bousefield,"  that  she  could  not  bear  to 
leave  them  off",  though  the  unconscious  Bousefield  had  now 
slept  quietly  in  Paddington  churchyard  for  the  last  fourteen  years. 
Neither  w^as  his  paragon  of  a  widow  ever  tired  of  expatiating 
upon  his  defunct  virtues, — the  panegyric  generally  concluding 
with — "Ah!  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield,  hif  I  could  ave  heat 
gold,  e'd  ave  give  it  to  me,"  though  it  must  be  confessed  that 
these  marital  virtues  were  not  so  much  cited  for  the  idle  pur- 
pose of  "  adorning  a  tale,"  as  for  that  of  "  pointing  a  moral," 
which  moral  was — "  what  a  wife  she  must  have  been  to  have 
insured  such  devotion  ! "  And  w^hen  she  had  to  condole  with 
less  fortunate  wives,  which  w^as  daily  and  hourly,  the  formula  of 
her  sympathy  invariably  was, — 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  129 

"  Ah  !  Mrs.  Tompkins,  /  who  ad  a  good  usban^  and  know 
what  it  is,  knows  ow  to  feel  for  you,  with  your  blackguard — 
blackguard  (with  great  emphasis)  I  call  him,  to  use  any  ooman 
in  that  way." 

Mrs,  Bousefield  having  performed  the  transit  from  Brompton 
to  Oxford  Street  in  perfect  safety,  with  no  rocks  a-head,  beyond 
on  three  occasions  having  thought  it  necessary  to  tell  an  elderly 
gentleman,  opposite  to  her,  who,  with  his  umbrella  between  his 
knees,  was  on  his  return  to  the  city,  quietly  ruminating  after 
his  last  feed  of  "  The  Times,""  first,  that  "  she  would  thank  him 
to  know  his  own  from  other  people's,  and  keep  his  feet  to  him- 
self:" whereupon  he  innocently  expressed  his  belief  of  having 
all  along  been  guilty  of  that  monopoly.  The  second  time,  she 
was  still  more  unjust,  for  a  deep  rut,  which  had  occasioned  a 
general  pele-mele  of  all  the  passengers,  she  invidiously  attri- 
buted to  a  singular  pressure  from  without,  of  the  elderly  gentle- 
man individually;  while  the  third  time,  another  rut  having 
caused  the  point  of  his  umbrella  to  slip,  and  spring  forward  of 
its  own  accord,  and  alight  between  those  feet  where  the  late 
Jedediah  Bousefield  had  breathed  out  his  youthflil  love,  his 
widow  hurled  at  the  elderly  gentleman  the  following  piece  of 
"  useful  and  entertaining  knowledge" — viz.,  "  that  humher-hel- 
lers  was  made  for  keeping  hoff  the  rain,  and  not  for  poking  of 
respectable /ema^es  about  in  that  kowdacious  sort  of  way;  but 
it  vi?ishawful  what  lone  women,  and  hespecialli/  widders,  had  to 
put  hup  with." 

"  And  to  put  down  with,  too,  Ma'am,  seemingly,"  said  the 
proscribed  elder,  good-humouredly,  as  he  handed  after  her  a 
small  kangaroo  in  a  cage ;  "  for  I  see  this  little  animal  is  directed 
to  the  bird-stuffer's  a  few  doors  lower  down." 

"  Oh  !  for  Haven's  sake  don't  go  for  to  give  me  none  of  your 
nasty  hanimals,"  cried  Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  she  scrambled  up  a 
new  widow's  cap,  tied  up  in  one  of  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield's 
gi  devant  scarlet  and  yellow  Indian  silk  pocket  handkerchiefs, 
and  one  of  those  black  embroidered,  fold-up  reticules,  which  ap- 
6* 


130  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

pear,  both  as  to  size  and  form,  a  compromise  between  a  carpen- 
ter's basket  and  a  carpet  bag,  and,  finally,  a  round  basket  tied 
over  with  white,  thinnish  paper,  and  round  with  a  piece  of 
Dutch  matting,  which  she  told  the  cad,  as  he  took  it  from  her 
hand  while  she  was  getting  down,  to  "  be  i^erticklar  careful 
with,  as  they  was  grapes  for  a  lady  has  was  Mil ;  "  after  which 
she  prepared  to  descend,  not  without  first,  how^ever,  calUng  the 
attention  of  a  butcher  who  sat  smoking  on  the  top  of  the  omni- 
bus with  his  face  turned  the  other  w  ay,  by  telling  him  to  mind 
his  own  business,  and  not  to  look  at  her. 

"All  right,  marm,"  said  the  man,  flinging  her  one  look  over 
his  shoulder  ;  "  y've  no  call  to  be  afeared^  for  not  being  a  pea- 
cock, you  see,  I  ha'nH  got  no  eyes  in  my  tail ; "  which  caused  a 
laugh  among  the  other  occupants  of  the  roof,  and  a  parting 
diatribe  from  Mrs.  Bousefield,  about  the  "  howdacious  impe- 
dence  of  them  fellers,  one  and  all — only  the  hold  uns  was  the 
worst ; "  which  latter  part  of  this  speech  she  hurled  back  into 
the  omnibus,  with  a  look  of  virtuous  indignation  at  the  elderly 
gentleman's  umbrella,  he  himself  having  his  head  turned  the 
other  way,  looking  out  of  the  window\  No  sooner  had  she 
reached  terra  Jirma,  collected  all  her  parcels,  bundles,  and 
packages,  and  lifted  up,  not  her  voice,  but  her  petticoats,  pre- 
paratory to  crossing  the  dyke,  than  the  sudden  apparition  of  an 
elderly  and  very  benevolent-looking  man,  in  deep  mourning, 
and  yet  with  more  sorrow  in  his  countenance  than  in  his  gar- 
ments, who  stood  within  the  doorway  of  a  shop  at  some  httle 
distance,  in  the  act  of  hailing  a  Kensington  omnibus,  seemed 
completely  to  upset  her, — not,  indeed,  literally,  but  figurative- 
ly ;  for,  with  the  same  desperation  that  those  misguided  mor- 
tals who  take  shower  baths,  pull  the  string,  and  overwhelm 
themselves  in  an  aw^^ewr- deluge,  did  the  bereaved  relict  of 
Jedediah  Bousefield  jduII  suddenly  down  the  Niagara  of  black 
crape  that  adorned  the  front  of  her  bonnet.  Now,  what  made 
this  movement  the  more  remarkable,  was,  that  it  was  evidently 
occasioned,  neither  by  a  compassionate  desire  to  shield  the  hail- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  131 

er  of  the  Kensington  omnibus  from  the  artillery  of  her  charms, 
nor  by  the  laudable  ambition  of  placing  Bousefield's  widow  on 
the  same  beyond-suspicion's  footing  as  Csesar's  wife  ;  but  from 
a  mingled  paroxysm  of  fear  and  surprise,  which,  as  she  hurried 
down  Dean  Street,  and  crossed  Soho  Square,  eventually  turning 
into  Wardour  Street,  found  utterance  in  the  following  solilo- 
quy : 

"  Well,  I  never !  who'd  have  ever  ?  And  getting  into  a 
Kensington  'bus,  too  !  Surely  he  can't — jirafs  he  as,  though  ; 
and  a  good  thing,  too :  for  I  for  one  am  tired  of  such  ritf-rafi', 
hugger-mugger  doings.  XJshan,  indeed, — Blackguard  I  call 
him ;  and  so  I've  a  good  mind  to  tell  him  pretty  soon.  But  to 
think  that  there,  if  I  ain't  come  all  hover  in  one  of  them  terri- 
ble eats  !  quite  enough  to  hupset  my  poor  nerves.  The  goings 
hon  of  that  good-for-nothink  old  feller  in  the  'bus,  without  any 
morC; — dear,  dear.  Well,  I'd  as  soon  ave  hexpected  to  ave 
seen  poor,  dear  Mr.  Bouseiield  himself;  and  the  shock  of  that 
I'll  leave  any  married  ooman  to  judge,  who  as  ad  a  usban  ! 
hurried  for  fourteen  years,  and  never  hexpected  to  see  him  no 
more,  if  he  really  was  a  usban  ;  for  one  half  as  calls  themselves 
so  don't  'have  as  sich  ;  pack  of  hobstroplus,  howdacious,  hover- 
bearing,  gallavanting,  good-for-nothink — blackguards  !  I  call 
'em." 

And  here  Mi-s.  Bouseiield  stopped  to  take  breath,  and  to 
look  about  her,  which  was  very  proper  ;  for,  if  Greece  is  the 
classic  soil  of  antiquity,  Wardour  Street  is  unquestionably  that 
of  antiquities,  which  the  widow,  however,  somewhat  profanely 
designated  as  a  parcel  of  rubbishing  old  rag  shops,  as  she 
looked  up  and  down  it,  seemingly  uncertain  which  way  to  bend 
her  course  ;  indeed,  she  could  not  think,  and  so  she  said  to  her- 
self, "  What  the  quality  could  mean  by  coming  to  such  a  low- 
lived place  to  huy^  even  sAe,  a  poor  tradeswoman^  when  in  busi- 
ness" (the  business  had  been  a  public-house  in  Holborn),  "poor, 
dear  Mr.  Bouseiield  never  let  her  have  a  second-hand  thing  in 
her  house.     Her  bedsteads  and  chairs  were  all  of  the  newest 


132  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  best  meeogany ;  so  were  all  the  barrels  at  the  bar.  When, 
at  Mr.  Bousefield's  death,  she  had  parted  with  the  concern,  she 
had  endeed  sold  some  plate  to  a  Jew  in  that  street,  and  that's 
how  she  came  to  know  of  such  a  place ;  but,  as  for  buying  a 
parcel  of  nasty,  dirty,  old,  worm-eaten  furniture,  she  should  be 
afraid  of  its  being  full  of  Queen  Elizabeth  !  the  Spanish  Ar- 
mada !  the  Great  Fire  of  London  !  and  the  Plague !  and — 
catching  them  all.  No  ;  hers  was-  all  in  a  very  Aumble  way  ; 
but,  thank  goodness,  it  was  new,  clean,  and  tidy,  and  no  carv- 
ing but  upon  good,  wholesome  joints.  "Drat  the  place!  if  I 
can  remember  whereabouts  it  was  ;  but  I  think,  indeed  I'm 
sure,  the  name  was  Jacobs  ;  because  I  remember  his  saying 
that  the  goold  coin  at  the  bottom  of  my  punch  ladles  was  a 
Jacobus  ;  and  my  saying,  has  it  w^as  one  of  his  famly,  then,  I 
supposed,  he  ouglit  to  give  more  for  it ;  and  I  can't  say  but  he 
behaved  very  ''andsome,  on  the  w^hole,  Specially  considering  he 
was  a  Jew." 

It  will  be  perceived  by  the  foregoing  piece  of  lucid  elo- 
quence, that  talking  (like  bleeding  at  the  nose  with  some  per- 
sons) was  at  once  an  infirmity  with,  and  a  relief  to  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field ;  talk  she  must — of  course  she  preferred  an  audience — 
what  orator  does  not  ?  but  still  hers  was  a  self  sufficing  gift,  and 
in  default  of  other  listeners,  she  could  speechify  for  hours  to 
herself,  without  a  dissentient  voice  ;  which  is,  perhaps,  the  chief 
advantage  of  that  peculiar  species  of  elocution.  There  was  one 
remarkable  feature  in  her  "  Romance  of  History,"  wdiich  was, 
that  not  one  of  the  events  chronicled  in  our  national  archives 
(by  some  strange,  mysterious  process,  only  known  to  herself) 
ever  preceded  or  went  beyond  the  Elizabethan  era.  For,  al- 
though it  is  true  she  had  a  due  horror  of  Henry  the  Eighth 
(or  old  Harry,  as  she  very  appropriately  called  him),  and  his 
little  favourite  pastime  of  cutting  off  his  wives'  heads,  yet  by 
some  unaccountable  hocus-pocus,  even  these  rolled  from  the 
scaffold,  accompanied  by  Queen  Elizabeth  on  a  high-trotting 
horse  going  in  state  to  Tilbury  Fort !     And  also,  more  recent 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  133 

occurrences — to  which  the  almanack  and  Universal  Gazetteer 
officiated  as  parish  registers,  such  as  the  French  Revolution,  and 
the  Battle  of  Trafalgar,  she  contrived  to  antedate  into  her  fa- 
vourite reign,  confounding  the  Revolution  with  the  St.  Bar- 
tholomew!  and  speaking  with  horror  of  "the  time,  when  all 
the  people  was  treated  so  barbarous  in  France,  and  butchered 
like *bell wethers  at  the  French  Bartlemy  fair  !  in  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's time.  While  the  battle  figured  as  ''Hliem  two  squirts  in 
Trafalgar  Square,  which  was  brought  by  Lord  jS^elson,  with  to- 
bacco pipes,  from  Americkey^  which  was  afterwards  beheaded 
by  Queen  Elizabeth  for  it !  though  some  does  say  it  was  be- 
cause she  was  more  intimate  with  him  than  she  should  6e." 
There  was  also  another  romance  attending  her  love,  which 
Bousefield  himself  had  ignored ;  and  which  she  never  alluded 
to,  but  on  great  emergencies — such  as  when  her  abstract  widow- 
hood, though  of  fourteen  years'  accumulation !  fiiiled  to  excite 
all  the  lachrymose  sympathy  which  she  deemed  it  entitled  to ; — 
then,  applying  her  handkerchief  to  the  corner  of  either  eye, 
would  she  beg  her  auditor}^,  singular  or  plural  as  the  case  might 
be,  to  think  what  her  feelings  ivas^  when  she  read  the  births, 
marriages,  and  deaths,  in  the  papers.  She  who  had  a  'usban, 
and  six  dear  hinfants  swallowed  hup  by  the  grave,  without  a 
victory  and  without  a  sting !  Now,  not  one  of  her  most  inti- 
mate acquaintance,  or  even  "^Ae  oldest  inhabitant^'  of  Hol- 
born  (that  scene  of  her  public  glory,  and  her  domestic  bliss), 
could,  after  the  most  indefatigable  research  amid  the  nooks  and 
corners  of  their  memory,  recall  a  single  symptom  of  these  six 
dear  hinfants — this  half  dozen  Thanes  of  Bousefield,  that  were 
to  have  been — beyond,  indeed,  some  token  caps  and  frocks 
which  she,  who  was  to  have  been  the  mother  of  their  intended 
wearers,  kept  as  the  insignia  of  her  order,  and  displayed  only 
on  collar  days,  nam.ely,  at  those  births,  deaths,  and  marriages 
at  which  she  was  called  on  personally  to  assist.  All  common 
people  are  communicative,  giving  you  not  only  their  antece- 
dents at  first  sight,  but  also  every  why  and  wherefore  of  their 


134  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

proceedings ;  but  Mrs.  Bousefield  was  even  more  so  than  her 
peers  ;  if  purchasing  provisions,  her  revelations  turned  upon  her 
general  health,  and  particular  aliments,  and  she  analytically  de- 
scribed the  effects  of  various  condiments  to  the  divers  vendors, 
in  a  gratuitous  essay  which  might  have  made  a  sensation  in 
"  The  Lancet,"  had  the  printer  been  cautioned  not  to  tamper 
with  the  original  diction.  Neither  could  she  buy  a  yard  of 
tape,  without  fancying  the  counter  a  confessional,  and  telling 
the  shop-woman,  or  even  the  shop-man,  the  identical  flannel 
petticoat  whose  epileptic  tendencies  it  was  destined  to  obviate. 
But  in  ^'■poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield'' s  time,''^  her  candour  was 
pushed  even  to  a  far  greater  extent,  for  no  paper  of  needles  ever 
found  its  way  from  Whitechapel  into  her  white  dimity  pocket, 
without  her  favouring  its  retailer  with  the  most  minute  and 
elaborate  details  of  the  particular  garment  of  "  Mr.  Bousefield's" 
they  were  intended  to  repair ;  and  even  the  exact  size,  form, 
and  locality  of  the  fracture.  And  as  for  buttons  ! — if  Bouse- 
field had  not  had  a  soul  above  buttons,  his  very  ghost  must 
have  succumbed  under  them,  as  his  relict's  constant  wish  was, 
that  she  had  but  a  guinea  for  every  one  that  she  had  sewn  on. 
Yet  as  she  advanced  in  life  (if  her  charming  sex  can  ever  be 
said  to  do  so,  however  they  may  advance  in  the  world),  she  im- 
parted her  own  immediate  affairs  less,  and  devoted  herself  more 
exclusively  to  disseminating  those  of  others :  though  having 
commenced  her  career  as  a  lady's  maid,  she  was  wont  to  ob- 
serve, that  she  ''■hoped  she  might  call  herself  a  confidential  per- 
son ;  "  so  that,  like  the  countryman  who  agreed  to  shelter  the 
fox,  in  the  fable,  though  she  would  clearly  ^9om^  out  the  lurking 
place  of  a  secret,  she  never  told  the  secret  itself; — "least  said, 
soonest  mended,"  being  one  of  the  mottoes  of  the  family  arms 
appertaining  to  the  "  six  dear  hinfants.^^ 

At  length,  being  completely  lost  in  the  maze  of  her  own 
reminiscences,  she  did  at  last  what  she  should  have  done  at 
first,  and  stopping  a  woman,  said  : 

"  Please  'um,  could  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  if  a  broker 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  135 

of  the  naine  of  Jacobs  lives  somewhere  hereabouts?  for  my 
memory  is  by  no  means  as  good  as  it  used  to  be  ;  for  when 
one  has  buried  a  good  ''ushan\  as  mine  was  in  hevery  res2)ec\ 
and  six  dear  hinfants^  you  may  suppose,  'wm,  though  I'm  not 
one  to  make  much  of  a  little,  but  very  different  from  that ! 
that  I've  seen  a  deal  of  trouble." 

The  woman  stared  at  her ;  and  without  in  the  least  appear- 
ing to  feel  this  fugitive  monody  upon  the  defunct  Mr.  Bouse- 
field  and  the  six  dear  hinfants,  any  more  than  if  she  had  been 
the  tombstone  of  the  former,  and  the  veiy  apocryphal  cradle 
of  the  latter ;  with  almost  legal  acumen  confined  herself  to 
Avhat  she  considered  the  only  important  point  of  the  case,  by 
informing  her  interrogator  that  she  had  passed  the  shoj);  as 
Mr.  Jacobs  lived  five  doors  lower  down  on  the  left  hand  side. 

Arrived  at  length  at  the  door,  it  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  she  could  turn  the  handle  and  walk  in,  without  a  great 
flutter,  or,  as  she  herself  called  it,  fluster  of  spirits — and  coniing 
all  over  in  one  of  them  terrible  heats  I  at  the  recollection  of  the 
punch  ladles,  tea,  table-spoons,  and  other  elegancies  appertain- 
ing to  the  "  Fox  and  Fiddle,"  when  that  establishment  had  been 
in  its  glory  in  "  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield's  time."  But  at  length, 
she  made  a  desperate  effort  over  herself — though,  as  she  said 
afterw^ards  in  recounting  her  sensations,  any  one  might  have 
knocked  her  down  with  a  feather;  and,  considering  the  num- 
ber of  ladies  of  Mrs.  Bousefield's  class,  always  ready  to  be 
knocked  down  in  the  same  way,  it  is  fortunate  for  them  that 
tliis  theoretical  species  of  downy  pugilism  forms  no  practical 
portion  of  " the  noble  science  of  self-defence" — and  with  this 
great  effort  she  opened  the  door  and  tottered  in  ;  but,  perceiv- 
ing by  the  light  of  the  evening  sun  which  was  now  streaming 
through  a  painted  glass  window  in  the  back  shop,  that  there 
were  two  men's  hats  for  her  to  encounter — reckless  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  the  Spanish  Armada,  Gi-eat  Fire  of  London,  or  even 
the  Plague ! — she  sat  down  in  a  thoroughly  uncomfortable, 
elaborately   carved   high-backed  arm-chair;    and   from  thence 


136  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

enunciated  such  a  series  of  vigorous  oh  !  oh  ! !  oh's  ! ! !  which 
were  meant  for  hysterical  sobs — that,  being  in  a  curiosity  shop, 
any  one  would  have  supposed  she  had  sat  upon  a  porcupine  by 
mistake ;  and,  indeed,  the  remains  of  a  harrow,  found  in  the 
Campagna  of  Rome,  having  that  morning  come  in,  Mr.  Jacobs 
from  Mrs.  Bousefield's  ejaculations  feared  she  might  have  inad- 
vertently misapplied  that  useful,  and  in  this  instance  classical 
agricultural  implement,  whereupon  he  called  out  to  one  of  his 
sons  who  was  polishing  a  marquetrie  cabinet  in  an  inner  work- 
room beyond  the  back  shop— 

"  Goodness !  Benjamin,  I  hope  you  haven't  left  that  piece 
of  the  Roman  harrow  about  on  any  of  the  chairs  ? " 

"No,  sir,  that  harrow  is  in  here." 

"  Dear  me,  then,  I  hope  the  lady  has  not  sat  upon  your 
Venice  glasses,  Mr.  Murray  ! "  said  Jacobs,  advancing  towards 
the  widow  to  discover  the  cause  of  her  groans ;  but  at  the 
name  of  Murray,  the  flood-gates  of  black  crape  were  opened, 
and  it  again  fell  in  torrents  o^er  her  face. 

"  It's  nothing^  sir,  hall  ill  soon  be  hover ! "  gasped  Mrs. 
Bousefield  in  an  under  tone  to  Jacobs ;  "  but  hevrey  one  '<25 
their  feelings,  and  there  is  times  and  places  where  one  his  more 
susceptibler  than  hothers.'^ 

This  speech  instead  of  allaying,  only  revived  Mr.  Jacobs' 
fears,  and  he  anxiously  expressed  a  hope  that  there  had  been 
no  glasses,  or  other  inappropriate  appendages,  in  the  chair  ? " 

"Oh,  no,  there's  nothink  in  the  chair,  it's  the  ''ardest  as 
hever  I  sat  upon ;  but,  I  believe,  at  the  latter  hend  of  Queen 
EHzabeth's  time,  they  was  accustomed  to  ''ard  ships,"  murmured 
Mrs.  Bousefield  in  the  same  under  tone ;  adding,  "  but  pray  at- 
tend to  the  gentleman  as  you  was  serving  when  I  come  in,  for 
I  can  wait,  and,  indeed,  should  be  glad  to  recover  the  flustering 
and  ''arrowing  hup  of  my  feelings  a  little." 

Not  only  reassured  by  these  words  that  Mrs.  Bousefield  had 
sustained  no  external  injury,  but  from  the  historical  allusion 
contained  in  the  beginning  of  them, — having  a  confused  idea 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  13 Y 

that  the  bale  of  black  crape  before  him  had  cast  its  shadow  on 
his  threshold  before ;  and  like  the  cliolera,  influenza,  scarlatina, 
or  any  other  epidemic,  was  not  easily  got  rid  of — he  turned  to 
his  previous  customer,  and  said — 

"  Then  the  glasses  I  am  to  send  to  your  lo<:lgings  in  Bury 
Street,  sk?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  please ;  and  the  picture  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  al- 
ready packed  for  going  into  the  country,  directed  to  the  Rev. 
Hobart  Wilmot,  at  Colonel  Chipchase's,  No.  — ,  Palace  Gardens, 
Kensington." 

At  these  words  the  arm  of  the  black  sea  in  the  Elizabethan 
chair  began  to  agitate  the  large  thick  w^hite  linen  pocket  hand- 
kerchief it  held  in  its  hand,  so  violently,  as  a  substitute  for  a  fan, 
that  from  the  manner  in  which  she  sank  back  (as  far  as  the 
rigid  perpendicularity  of  the  chair  would  allow  of),  it  appeared 
to  fell  her  down  like  a  whole  forest  of  feathers  ;  and  as  soon  as 
the  last  speaker  had  quitted  the  shop,  up  flew  the  black  crape 
fall,  high  in  mid-air  like  a  water  spout,  as  turning  sharply  to 
Jacobs,  she  said — 

"  Pray  did  you  not  call  that  'ere  gent  as  has  just  left  the 
shop,  Mr.  Murray  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  that  is  his  name." 

"  You'll  hexcuse  me — for  I  don't  hask  hout  of  mere  curiosi- 
ty ;  but  his  is  name  Halciphron  Murray?" 

"  Yes." 

'■^  Hand  didn't  I  'ear  him  a  telling  you  to  send  a  picter  of 
Jeremy  Diddler,  I  think  he  said,  to  the  Reverend  Hobart  Wil- 
mot?    Now,  pray,  is  Mr.  Wilmot  in  town?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Jacobs;  "or  the  picture  would  not 
have  been  ordered  to  be  sent  there  to  him." 

"And  is  it  a  ^ouse  of  his  hoivn;  that  is  a  ^ouse  as  he  have 
Hred  ;  for  I  know  he  has  no  town  'ouse  ?  " 

"I  really  don't  know;  but  I  rather  think  not,  as  I  under- 
stood Mr.  Murray  he  was  on  a  visit  to  Colonel  Chipchase." 

For  a  few  seconds   the  widow's   thoughts  appeared  to  be 


138  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

buried  in  the  silent  tomb  with  ''  Mr.  Bousefield  and  the  six 
dear  hinfants ; "  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  she  ex- 
claimed, pulling  herself  up  out  of  the  chair,  as  it  were  by  the 
lever  of  a  great  sigh  1 

""Well !  how  things  does  come  about  to  be  surel " 
And  then  mmmaging  in  the  depths  of  one  of  her  capacious 
pockets,  she  fished  up  a  very  small,  green  velvet-case,  or  etui, 
rolled  in  silver  paper,  which  case  contained  a  large  heart-shaped 
brilliant  ring,  of  mediaeval  setting  and  workmanship,  surmount- 
ed by  a  true  lover's  knot  of  rubies  and  diamonds. 

"  Now,  p'raps  you  may  not  recall  the  circumstance,  Mr. 
Jacobs,"  said  she,  still  withholding  the  ring  from  his  hand, 
which  was  outstretched  to  receive  it ;  "  but  it  is  not  the  first 
time  as  you  hand  I  ''ave  ''ad  dealings  together." 

"  It  struck  me  I  had  seen  you  before,  ma'am  ;  but  I  cannot 
■exactly  i-emember  upon  what  occasion.'' 

"  Ha  !  no  doubt,  I'm  terrible  haltered  since  then,  hanguish 
tells  upon  the  stoutest  ^arts,  and  the  ''ighest  sp)erits  ;  and  when 
one  comes  to  'ave  a  good  ^usband,  six  dear  hinfants,  and  hall 
one's  spoons  swallowed  up  by  the  silent  grave  without  a  sting, 
and  without  a  victory  !  I  has&  w^hat  do  you  suppose  his  left  of 
a  ooman  ?  " 

Jacobs  supposed  the  remaining  fragment  was  her  tongue, 
but  he  did  not  say  so ;  he  merely  replied  in  the  universal  lan- 
guage of  a  shrug,  which,  like  a  di^Dlomatic  document,  means 
anything,  everything,  or  nothing  :  as  diflferent  occasions,  or  con- 
tingencies may  require. 

"  Yes,  the  grave  'ao?  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield,  and — you — 
you  Mr.  Jacobs  'ad  my  sjDoons  !  "  and  the  convulsive  sobs  that 
accompanied  this  announcement  would  more  than  have  filled 
the  four  punch  ladles  which  formerly  had  graced  the  "  Fox  and 
Fiddle." 

"  Spoons  I  were  they  apostle  spoons,  or  modern  ones  ?  " 
"  Oh,  modern,  hajid  the  very  best  ;  for  poor  dear  Mr.  Bouse- 
field my  'usband,  never  let  me  ^ave  anything  but  the  newest 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  139 

hand  the  best ;  (no  offence  to  the  harticles  you  deal  kin  Mr. 
Jacobs,  which  I  know  his  run  hafter  by  the  qnahty  has  great 
curiosities)  hand  hall  hour  plate  was  the  fiddle  pattern,  hon  ac- 
count .of  hour  ouseh^mg  called  '  Tlie  Fox  and  Fiddle,' — hex- 
cept  four  old  punch  ladles  w^ith  goold  coins  set  in  them,  which 
Old  Lady  Coddlecat  left  poor  Mr.  Bousefield,  who'd  been  her 
ladyship's  butler  for  years  ;  and  two  of  the  goold  coins  you  said 
was  Jacobuses,  hand  the  hother  two  I  think  you  called  hangels 
— I  spose  on  account  of  hall  the  sperits  they  W  ladled  hout^ 

"  Oh  !  I  think  I  remember,  it  was  somewhere  between  thir- 
teen and  fourteen  years  ago  ;  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Just  fourteen  years  and  three  weeks,  come  the  thirteenth 
of  next  month,"  panted  Mrs.  Bousefield,  getting  up  her  steam 
for  another  fit  of  hysterics,  which  Jacobs  perceiving,  said  hastily, 
in  great  alarm — 

"  Well,  but  what  can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  doing  for  you 
now,  ma'am  ? " 

"  It  his  a  little  matter  of  business  \haihis  not  mine,  Mr.  Ja- 
cobs, though  I  do  02)6  I  may  call  myself  a  conferdential  person, 
for  maid,  wife,  and  widow,  I've  known  the  family  these  thirty 
years — indeed,  I  was  Miss  Florence's  mar''s  maid — Miss  Flor- 
ence, I  can't  get  hout  of  the  way  of  calling  of  her,  just  has  she 
still  calls  me  Barlow,  which  was  my  maiden  name  ;  though  she 
'ave  now  got  three  children,  poor  dear,  more's  the  pity  !  hand 
I  do  pity  the  poor  hinfants  from  my  ^art,  has  hall  children  who 
has  no  reg'lar  father  as  you  may  say,  but  one  has  comes  honly 
on  a  job  like,  hoff  and  hon^  his  to  be  pitied  ;  and  I  who  ^ad  a 
good  \Lshan,  a  real  one  hand  no  sham  !  one  who  would  have 
give  me  goold  to  heat  hif  I  could  have  heat  it, — knows  how  to 
feel  for  them  as — well,  well,  there  his  secrets  bin  every/a??i/?/, 
more  hespecially  among  gentlefolks  ;  hand  I  do  assure  you,  Mr. 
Jacobs,  I  should  be  the  last  person  hin  the  world  to  say  what 
his,  hor  what  hisn't,  but  hoften  when  the  tongue  is  silentest,  the 
^art  is  ''eaviest  ;  hand  when  I  see  a  beautiful  young  lady  wasting 
away,  a  dying  by  hinches,  has  the  saying  his,  that  should  be  so 


140  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

very  different,  stuck  hup  in  a  cottage  between  four  walls,  hin  a 
back  lane  between  Kensingston  and  Brompton  (the  most  disre- 
putablest  j^lace  I  call  it,  among  a  pack  of  hopera  singers,  and 
kept  mistresses — good  for  notbink  hussies,  flaunting  in  wives' 
and  children's  bread),  and  going  by  the  name  of  Mrs.  ''Enry, 
which  I  don't  consider  no  name  at  all ;  hand  selling  of  her 
things  one  hafter  an  other,  poor  dear,  to  find  shoes  and  clothes 
for  her  poor  dear  hinfants,  while  her  ''ushan,  as  he  calls  himself, 
— BLACKGUARD  !  /  call  him — drives  the  finest  carriages 
and  'osses,  hand  with  his  rings,  chains,  studs,  and  jewelry,  looks 
for  hall  the  world  like  the  trays  of  Hunt  and  Roskill's  shop, 
hall  hemptied  bout  permiscus  hover  one  of  Moses  and  Son's 
wax  figures.  Oh  !  it's  hiiifamous,  scandalous,  hand  haggravat- 
ing  to  a  degree,  hand  though  /  say  nothing,  for  prudence  his 
i\\Qfust  dooty  of  a  conferdential  servant,  yet  I  could  say  a  great 
deal,  honly  what's  nobody's  business  his  heverybody's business; 
hand  words  hoften  makes  breaches  that  paving  stones  can't 
stop,  as  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  used  to  say,  who'd  been  the 
Dowager  Countess  of  Coddlecat's  confidential  man  for  years, 
hand  conserquently  knew  pretty  well  everything  has  was  not 
fit  to  be  told,  hand  I  'ope  I  shall  halways  do  the  same." 

Jacobs  having  that  morning  read  with  one  of  his  chil- 
dren, the  fable  of  "  The  Oak  and  the  Reed,"  prudently  imi- 
tated the  wise  course  of  the  latter,  and  bowed  his  head,  till  this 
verbal  hurricane  had  subsided,  when  he  again  mildly  inquired 
what  he  could  have  the  pleasure  of  doing  for  Mrs.  Bousefield, 
on  the  present  occasion.  Whereupon,  at  this  "  second  time  of 
asking,"  she  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  aforesaid  capacious  hand- 
kerchief, which,  in  these  days  of  commercial  associations,  might 
have  served  as  the  general  lachrymary  of  a  joint  stock  widow's 
company.  After  Avhich,  having  first  announced  that  she  had 
"  again  come  all  hover  in  one  of  them  tre?nenjus  !  heats,"  which 
was  no  wonder,  considering  the  race  her  tongue  had  ran, — 
she  opened  the  little  green-velvet  case  containing  the  ring,  and 
said — 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  141 

"  It  his  this  'ere  ring  Mr.  Jacobs,  which  poor  Miss  Florence 
— leastways  Mrs.  ''Enry,  wishes,  or  very  far  from  thwt^  she  don't 
wish  it,  poor  thing,  cause  the  ring  belonged  to  her  great,  great, 
great  granmar,  which  was  given  to  a  haunt  of  hers  by  Queen 
Elizabeth  to  give  to  the  Hurl  of  Hessex  to  bribe  him  to  be  be- 
headed, hand  'aving  been  in  the  family  so  long,  she  would 
rather  do  any  think  than  part  with  it,  but  she  wants  fifty  guineas, 
hand  has  nothink  helse  worth  so  much." 

Jacobs,  who  had  been  examining  the  ring  through  a  mag- 
nifying glass,  and  who,  from  Mrs.  Bousefield's  tirade,  had 
gathered  quite  enough  to  convince  him  that  in  the  midst  of 
this  rigmarole  was  wedged  one  of  those  myriads  of  inedited 
miseries,  with  which  the  streets,  thoroughfares,  courts,  alleys, 
and  by-lanes  of  every  great  city  are  literally  paved,  quietly  gave 
her  back  the  ring,  saying — 

"  This  ring  is  worth  considerably  more  than  fifty  guineas, 
therefore  it  would  be  a  pity  she  should  part  with  it  for  that,  or 
indeed  any  other  sum,  since  as  you  say,  it's  an  heir-loom,  and 
at  all  events  it  is  of  very  rare  and  curious  workmanship,  and 
great  intrinsic  value." 

"  But  'nty  lady  will  be  so  terrible  disappointed,  you  see,  Mr. 
Jacobs,  hif  I  return  without  the  money ;  hindeed,  I  may  tell 
you  in  conference,  which  hof  course  is  honly  between  our  two 
selves,  that  his,  you  and  me,  Mr.  Jacobs — the  laundress  hand 
grocer  his  both  howed  a  'eavy  bill,  which  she  promised  to  settle 
to-morrow ;  and  tradespeople — has  you  well  know,  being  in 
business,  hand  I  know,  aving  hen  a  tradeswoman  myself — gets 
hobstroplus,  hand  often  hinsolent,  hif  at  least  a  part  hof  their 
bills  his  not  heridicated.''^ 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  the  lady  should  go  without  the 
money ;  but  I  thought  she  might  have  something  which  she 
would  be  less  reluctant  to  part  with." 

"  She  says  not,  hand  hindeed  I'm  afeared  hit's  only  too  true ; 
for  we've  been  at  this  work  now  for  a  whole  year.  Qh !  I've 
no  patience  with  that  'usban  of  hers — 'usban,  indeed,  black- 


142  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

GUARD !  1  call  him  ;  hand  I'm  so  tired  of  seeing  hall  her 
beautiful  trinkets  go  to  them  'orrid  common  pawnbrokers,  who 
gives  nothink  for  any  think,  for  I  do  hleeve  hif  one  was  to  bring 
them  the  cure-in-your  (!)  that  'ere  great  big  diamond  has  was 
under  a  glass  case  like  Van  Butchel's  wife,  hat  the  Great  Hex- 
hibition,  them  fellers  would  hactually  'ave  the  face  to  tell  you, 
that  it  was  of  no  vally  hon  haccount  hof  hit's  size,  so  I  ad  oped^ 
as  I  should  'ave  bin  liable  to  ave  done  business  with  you  Mr. 
Jacobs,  and  heridicated  away  (!)  this  here  tiresome  laundress 
and  grocer  to-morrows" 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will,'^  said  Jacobs,  taking  up  his  hat  and 
putting  it  on  ;  "and  if  you  will  allow  me  to  accompany  you 
back  to  Mrs.  Henry's  house,  I  have  no  doubt  but  I  shall  be  able 
to  find  something  for  which  I  can  give  her  the  sum  she  w^ants, 
without  depriving  her  of  that  ring.  Ben,"  added  he,  calHng 
out  to  his  son  in  the  inner  work-room,  as  he  unlocked  a  high 
office  desk  in  the  front  shop,  and  taking  a  large  black  leather 
pocket-book  from  it,  put  the  latter  into  the  side-pocket  of  his 
coat.  "  Ben,  I'm  going  out,  and  I  shall  be  back  in  a  couple  of 
hours ;  but  if  anything  should  detain  me  longer,  tell  your 
mother  not  to  wait  supper  for  me." 

"  I'm  sure,  sir,  you  hare  hextremely  kind,  hand  I  railly  feel 
more  than  I  can  hexpress,^-  said  Mrs.  Bousefield,  with  one  of 
her  most  captivating  curtseys — but  not  without  a  secret  suspi- 
cion, that  it  was  her  beaux  yeux,  that  w^ere  leadmg  the  be- 
witched broker  all  the  way  to  Brompton  at  that  late  hour ;  but 
all  she  said  even  to  herself,  was — "  Well,  I'm  sure  ladies  his 
very  fortunate,  when  they  'ave  prudent,  clever,  conferdential 
people  about  them,  who  knows  'ow  to  manage  their  aff'airs  for 
'em,  which  they  never  do  themselves,  poor  things — and  'ow 
should  they  ?  " 

On  quitting  the  shop,  Mr.  Jacobs  did  not  offer  his  arm  to 
the  widow ;  but  this  she  attributed  to  prudential  motives ;  for 
as  she  remarked  to  herself  (from  whom  it  will  be  perceived  she 
had  no  concealments,) — "  Hof  course  Jews'  wives  ^ave  their 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  143^ 

feelings  like  hother  ^vomen,  even  liif  they  was  Jewesses ;  and 
therefore,  for  her  part,  she  was  very  glad  that  Mr.  Jacobs- 
behaved  so  yrudent^  for  she  should  be  the  last  to  wish  to  cause 
kany  Ao?2pleasantness  betwixt  man  hand  wife."  At  the  end  of 
the  street  they  stopped  a  Knightsbridge  omnibus,  into  which 
Jacobs  (doubtless,  in  a  continuation  of  the  prudential  vein  she 
had  ascribed  to  him),  allowed  Mrs.  Bousefield  to  get,  without 
any  assistance  from  him  ;  neither  did  she  on  her  side,  appear  ta 
entertain  the  same  injurious  suspicions  of  him  that  she  had  of 
the  elderly  gentleman  with  the  divining  rod  of  an  umbrella, — ■ 
and  yet  Jacobs  being  a  dealer  and  connoisseur  both  in  antiqui- 
ties and  curiosities,  any  dispassionate  judge  might,  and  in  all 
probability  would  have  supposed,  that  she  ran  far  greater  risks 
of  capture  from  him  than  from  the  other;  however,  as  if  to 
give  him  some-idea  of  what  was  expected  from  eldei-ly  gentle- 
men, travelling  with  widows  and  " unprotected  females^^''  in 
omnibuses,  she  roused  him  from  his  decorous  stupefaction,  by 
narrating  to  him,  with  a  series  of  illustrations  that  would  not 
have  discredited  Cruikshank,  all  the  perils  and  dangers  she  had 
incurred  during  her  journey  to  Wardour  Street ;  concluding 
with  this  remarkable  aphorism  of  the  late  Mr.  Bousefield. 

"  But  Mr.  Jacobs,  I  do  hassure  yoii^  sir,  since  I've  been  a 
lone  'ooman,  without  a  'usban's  purtection,  I  hoften  hand  hoften 
think  of  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield's  words,  '  SusannerJ  says  he^ 
'  Avhenever  you  gets  into  a  bus,  always  put  a  basket  hor  a 
a  parcel  hof  each  side  on  you,  so  as  to  let  hall  the  squeeges 
come  hon  to  them;  hand  tliof  you  may  be  a  little  the  worse 
from  their  bruises,  hat  hall  events'  he  says — '  Susanner,'  says  he, 
'  hothers  wont  be  none  the  better,  hif  so  be  has  they  was  to 
turn  theirselves  into  perfect  lemon  squeegers." 

"Very  true  indeed,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Jacobs,  almost  with  a 
laugh  ;  and  then  relapsing  into  silence  as  before,  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field had  ample  leisure  (the  other  occupants  of  the  omnibus 
being  only  three  damp  school  boys  and  a  Skye  terrier,  all  eyes 
and  mud),  to  deliberate  whether  in  the  event  of  anything  hap- 


144  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

peiiing  to  Mrs.  Jacobs,  she  could  sell  herself  to  a  Jew,  and  put 
up  with  the  dulness  of  Wardour  Street,  *'  and  all  them  hold 
lumbering  dust-traps  of  curosities,^''  after  the  gaiety,  bustle,  and 
brilliancy  of  the  "  Fox  and  Fiddle,"  and  the  tumultuous  rush- 
ings,  crushing,  drivings,  and  strivings  of  Holborn ;  and  at 
length  having  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  she  was  not  so 
young  •'  hand  so  hactive,  nor  so  full  of  sperits  "  as  she  had  been 
in  the  days  of  Bousefield,  and  as  there  was  no  likelihood  of  her 
"  ^aving  hany  more  dear  hinfants^  who  of  course  she  should  like 
brought  hup  as  Christians,"  she  thought,  though  a  Jew,  he  was 
an  uncommon  nice  man  ;  and  would  know  what  was  due  to  a 
'•^female  "  under  hall  circumsTANces,"  and  therefore,  that  she 
couldn't  do  better,  though  she  might  do  worse;  "  but  laivr ! 
them  Jewesses  was  as  tough  as  Turks,  hand  lived  hon  to  the 
most  hunaccount«6^e6'^  hages^\WQ  the  people  in  the  Bible;" 
and  this  thought  being  a  poser, — the  omnibus  all  unconsciously 
keeping  the  unities,  came  to  a  dead  stop  at  the  corner  of  the 
Fulham  Road  ;  whereupon,  Mrs.  Bousefield,  putting  her  head 
out  of  the  window,  requested  the  coachman  to  back  a  little,  and 
set  her  down  "  hat  the  Bell  and  ^Orns^  Upon  alighting,  she 
told  Jacobs  that  in  taking  the  turn  leading  to  Old  Brompton, 
they  should  have  to  walk  about  a  mile  to  get  to  Magnolia 
Lodge,  where  Mrs.  Henry  lived ;  and  he  then  perceiving  the 
innumerable  packages  with  which  she  was  laden,  stretched  out 
his  hand,  and  offered  to  disencumber  her  of  the  yellow  and  red 
silk  handkerchief  containing  the  widow's  cap,  but  she  would 
not  relinquish  that  highly  starched  golgotha,  in  which  she  still 
put  up  public  sighs  for  "  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield ; "  therefore 
she  resigned  into  his  custody  the  basket  of  grapes  instead  ;  re- 
marking with  a  sigh,  as  she  drew  the  red  and  yellow  kerchief 
and  its  contents  closer  to  her — "  for  has  the  Bible  says,  Mr. 
Jacobs,  '  you  can't  get  grapes  from  thorns,' — and  these  is  my 
thorns  !  so  ijou  may  take  the  grapes,"  a  distribution  of  wealth, 
which  her  companion — Jew  that  he  was — appeared  infinitely 
to  prefer,  after  which  arrangement  they  walked  on  at  a  brisk 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  145 

pace,  Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  usual,  doing  all  the  talking,  which, 
somehow  or  other,  like  the  getting  up  of  her  caps  and  collars, 
never  was  "  done  to  her  liking^''  unless  she  did  do  it  herself. 
A  twenty  minutes'  walk  having  brought  them  to  a  green  lane, 
nearly  opposite  Drayton  Place,  they  turned  down  it,  and  stopped 
at  an  enclosed  house,  which  was  approached  by  two  large  wooden 
carriage  gates.  Having  rang  the  bell,  which  returned  a  hollow 
^nd  lugaibrious  sound,  Mrs.  Bousefield  naturally  concluding 
that  Jacobs  must  be  blind,  from  the  little,  or  more  properly 
speaking  from  the  non-effect,  her  attractions  had  had  upon 
him — kindly  informed  him  that  it  was  almost  dark ;  a  remark 
to  which  he  having  given  a  confirmative  reply,  she  again  rang, 
expressing  a  suspicion  that  the  inmates  wxre  all  either  dead  or 
asleep. 

At  length  a  smaller  gate,  within  one  of  tbe  panels  of  the 
larger  ones,  was  opened  by  a  sort  of  gardener's  boy,  with  a 
watering-pot  slung  over  his  right  arm,  and  his  flat,  torn  straw 
hat  very  much  slouched  over  his  eyes,  whom  the  widow  apos- 
trophised as  follows, — 

"  Why,  laws,  Joe  !  whathever  hare  you  hall  hat,  to  keep  us 
so  long  a  ringing  here  by  howl-light  hat  the  gate  ? " 

"  I  win-  along  with  father  in  the  fur  field,  giving  the  calf 
Lis  supper,  and  didn't  hear  the  bell  till  just  now,"  responded 
Joe. 

•'  Giving  the  calf  its  supper  !  I  suspect  it  was  a  two-legged 
calf  you  were  cramming,  as  usual;  for  Fm  sure  I'd  rather  have 
the  seven  plagues  of  Hegypt  to  do  with  hany  day,  than  one 
boy!  hand  less  plague  too;  for,  has  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield 
used  to  say,  w^hen  he  had  two  pages  hunder  him  hat  the  Dow- 
ager Countess  of  Coddlecat's  and  hall  her  ladyship's  potecary's 
bills  to  pay, — -^  Boys  hand  blisters  his  a- source  hof  coTt-tinual 
herritation ! '  But  where  hon  hearth  his  Margaret,  that  she 
could  not  hopen  the  gate ;  or  Marlow  ? " 

"  They  are  both  out ;  there  haint  nobody  in  but  father  and 
I,"  replied  Joe. 
7 


146  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  What !  hand  left  missus  hall  halone  with  them  three  hin- 
fants!  "  almost  screamed  Mrs.  Boiisefield. 

"You'll  hexcuse  me,  Mr.  Jacobs,"  said  she,  turning  back,  and 
stopping  one  moment  as  she  hurried  across  the  lawn,  "  but  I 
must  see  to  7717/  lady,  who  them  good-for-nothink  servants,  the 
moment  my  back  was  turned,  has  left  quite  alone,  hand  she  so 
hill !  Just  foller  me,  please,  hand  I'll  show  you  hinto  the  din- 
ing-room, while  I  see  hafter  Mrs.  'Enry,  hand  tell  her  has  you've 
tookt  the  trouble  to  come  hand  speak  to  her  about  that  'ere 
ring." 

Jacobs  obeyed,  begging  Mrs.  Bousefield  would  not  hurry 
herself,  as  he  could  wait,  at  least  for  half-an-hour. 

Magnolia  Lodge  took  its  name  from  two  large  magnolia 
trees,  growing  in  almost  southern  luxuriance  on  the  lawn,  and 
overshadowing,  Avith  their  foliage,  while  they  overpowered  with 
their  perfume,  the  dining  and  drawing-room  of  the  cottage, 
which  were  opposite  to  each  other,  the  hall,  or  vestibule,  divid- 
ing them.  The  house  was  only  two  stories  high,  and  flat  roof- 
ed, in  the  Italian  style,  but  being  a  double  house  there  were  six 
rooms  on  each  floor,  beside  the  oflSces,  with  coach-house  and 
stabling  at  the  back,  which  had  a  sinecure,  except  when  Mr. 
Henry's  cab,  brougham,  or  saddle-hoi-ses  occupied  them,  during 
those  rare  times  when  he  passed  a  day  or  two  at  Magnolia  Lodge, 
which  was  so  well  enclosed,  and  from  which,  being  in  the  angle 
of  a  lane,  the  road  was  so  completely  shut  out,  that  once  within 
it,  any  one  might  have  fancied  themselves  a  hundred  miles  from 
London. 

Having  ushered  Jacobs  into  the  dining-room,  drawn  up  the 
bhnd,  and  placed  a  chair  for  him  with  considerable  fussiness — 
for  common  people  cannot  stir  a  cup  of  tea,  or  pour  out  a  glass 
of  water,  without  doing  it  in  a  fussy  and  supererogatory  man- 
ner, which  they  have  an  erroneous  idea  enhances  their  services 
—  she  at  length  closed  the  door  upon  him,  and  crossed  the  hall 
to  the  drawing-room.  The  last  dark,  crimson  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun,  bordered  as  they  now  were  with  the  violet  hues  of  a 


BEHIND    THE    SCEN'ES.  147 

summer's  night,  were  darting  their  expiring  and  shadowy  light 
through  the  room  and  through  the  trelHs  of  a  vine  that  shaded 
a  back  ^vindow  at  the  further  end  of  it.  On  a  sofa,  half  reclin- 
ing, and  propped  up  with  pillows,  was  the  fragile  and  attenuated 
form  of  a  young  and  very  beautiful  woman,  around  whom,  not- 
withstanding the  fatal  ravages  consumption  had  evidently  made, 
and  that  she  was  also 

"  Begirt  with  growing  infancy," 

there  still  lingered  the  soft  and  willowy  outlines  of  girlhood. 
On  her  lap  slept  an  infant  of  not  more  than  five  weeks  old, 
whose  calm,  scarcely  breathing  slumbers  she  watched,  as  only 
mothers  can  watch,  as  if  the  weight  of  love — and  it  might  be*of 
sorrow — in  her  own  eyes,  pressed  down  the  baby's  hds  and 
sealed  the  sleep  within  them  ;  at  her  feet  sat  a  little  girl,  about 
four  years  old,  also  asleep,  with  her  face  half  hidden  against  her 
mother's  knee,  while  her  tendril-like  chestnut  curls  fell  in  rich 
profusion  over  her  ivory  forehead  and  shoulders;  and  at  some 
distance  from  her  on  the  floor,  lay  pillowed,  a  la  Van  Ambzirc/h, 
with  his  head  resting  on  that  of  a  large  brown  Mount  St.  Ber- 
nard dog,  and  his  arms  round  the  animal's  neck,  a  fat,  chubby 
boy,  about  five,  with  crisp,  curling  brown  hair,  and  long  lashes 
that  swept  his  cheeks,  like  lengthening  evening  shadows,  who 
had  evidently  worried  himself  and  his  noble  companion  to 
sleep. 

"  Oh  I  Barlow,  how  long  you  have  been,"  said  a  soft,  low 
voice  from  the  sofa,  as  Mrs.  Bousefield  made  her  entree  ;  "  and 
Margaret  and  Marlow  have  both  gone  out,  which  is  very  wrong 
of  them,  and  there  was  no  one  to  put  the  children  to  bed  ;  and 
Henry  has  been  frightening  me  to  death,  thrusting  his  hands 
into  Alp's  mouth,  till  I  really  thought  the  poor  dog,  in  self-de- 
fence, would  bite  him." 

Now,  though  Mrs.  Bousefield  was  always  ready,  not  only 
to  join,  but  to  exceed  her  mistress  in  any  animadversions  she 
might  utter,  touching  the   other  servants,  yet,  from   the  long 


148  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

habit  engendered  at  "  The  Fox  and  Fiddle  "  of  arrogating  to 
herself  a  sort  of  pope-like  infallibility,  she  never  could  admit 
that  error  and  her  own  individual  self  were  compatible  ;  but  the 
more  palpable  her  fault  appeared  to  the  eyes  of  others,  the  more 
she  bore  their  censures,  "  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,"  imme- 
diately taking  her  stand  as  a  martyr,  and  doling  out  every  word 
of  her  defence  as  slowly  as  possible,  with  a  sort  of  sledge-ham- 
mer emphasis,  so  as  that  the  iron  might  enter  into  the  soul  of 
her  accuser  ;  and  finally  coming  out  strong  in  the  injured  in- 
nocence Hne,  with  a  few,  silent,  victim  (though  invisible)  tears, 
which,  as  the  earth  absorbs  the  dew,  were  always  imbibed  by 
the  large  pocket-handkerchief,  at  sight  of  which  misery-flag, 
hel"  adversary  was  sure  to  strike  his  or  hers  and  sue  for  pardon, 
rather  than  risk  any  further  scenas  from  Mrs.  Bousefield's  tragic 
muse.  No  sooner,  therefore,  had  her  mistress  ventured  to  Hint 
at  the  length  of  her  stay,  than,  suddenly  pausing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  between  every  word,  she  uttered  the  following 
piece  of  withering  endurance — "  and  not  wishing  to  reproach 
anybody" — in  the  tone  of  a  saint,  at  least  as  such  tones  are  sim- 
ulated in  conventicles,  and  w^ith  the  look  of  a  St.  Catherine 
having  the  omnibus  wheel,  as  that  of  her  martyrdom,  in  her 
mind's  eye. 

"Well,  I  ad  oped,  Miss  Florence — least  ways  Mrs. 'En  ry — that 
hafter  the  faithful  services  you've  ad  from  me  for  years,  hand 
your  mar  before  you,  that  you  knowd  me  better  then  for  to 
think — ^let  alone  so  lightly  to  haccuse  me  of  staying  long  hout, 
when  I  knew  has  you  was  hill  hat  home.  I  did,  hit  his  true, 
make  a  little  delay  hat  Catleugh's,  a  chusing  hon  you  some 
otouse  grapes,  a  thinking  as  you  would  like  em  ;  but  praps  I 
was  wrong  so  to  do,  we  often  his  wen  we  does  for  the  best"  — 
(and  here  the  handkerchief  caressed  the  corner  of  either  eye), 
— "  but  hit's  live  hand  learn,  hand  I  shall  know  better  hanother 
time." 

"I'm  sure.  Barlow,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the 
grapes,  and  it  was  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  them,"  inter- 
rupted her  mistress. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  149 

"  No,  you  liaint,  Miss  Florence,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Bousefield, 
with  an  accelerated  sense  of  injury  ;  "  and  there  haint  no  hoc- 
casions  to  be  obliged  to  me  ;  I  consider  when  one  does  their 
dooty,  one  as  the  happroval  hof  one's  own  art,  and  that  is  quite 
sufBcient;  but  ladies  don't  go  in  'buses,  hand  therefore  hasn't 
no  idear  what  a  lone  ooman  'as  to  put  up  with — specially  a 
widder — though  /  don't  consider  him  no  husband,  yet  you  ave 
the  name  of  one,  hand  heven  that  his  hof  use  hin  purtect- 
ing  a  ooman ;  similar,  the  same^  as  them  notices  stuck  hup 
hin  grounds,  to  tell  people  that  hif  so  be  as  they  hare  found 
trespassing,  they  will  he  persecuted  to  the  huttermost  rigour  hof 
the  law;  but  just  has  a  plate  oi y alter  soap  hand  brown  sugar, 
hin  a  back  staircase  winder,  hattracts  the  wasps  and  bluebottles, 
I  do  verily  believe,  weeds  hand  a  widder's  cap  brings  hall  the 
fellers  a-buzziug  about  you  ;  and  the  hold  uns,  like  the  blue- 
bottles, his  hout-hand-hout  the  worst ;  hand  hof  hall  the  how- 
dacious,  imperent,  good-for-nothink  hold  Don  Jupiters,  vvith  his 
humbreller  ! — but  no  matter,  hall  thathamounted  to  nothink — 
but  who  hever  do  you  think  I  sawr,  hon  getting  hout  hof  the 
'bus,  hin  Hoxford  Street  ? " 

"  Not  the  ghost  of  poor  Mr.  Bousefield,  I  hope  ? "  said  the 
mistress,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  Mr.  Bousefield  knows  better  than  for  to  go  about 
frightening  of  females,  hin  that  way  ;  hand,  halways  aving  ad 
the  abit  hof  staying  a  long  time  hin  hall  his  places,  I'm  sure 
he'll  continue  to  do  the  same  now.  No  ;  it  was  no  ghost,  but 
real  flesh  hand  blood  ;  hand  you  might  ave  knocked  me  down 
with  a  feather,  when  I  caught  sight  on  him." 

"  Why,  who  could  it  be.  Barlow  ?  " 

"Ah  !  who  indeed  ;  why,  your  J9ar,  Mr.  Wilmot,  himself." 

A  faint  scream  escaped  the  young  woman,  who  buried  her 
face  on  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  burst  into  a  passionate  flood 
of  tears.  The  noise  woke  the  little  sleepers,  all  but  the  infant; 
and  Alp,  at  the  same  time  giving  himself  a  rousing  shake,  and 
thinking  it  necessary  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  commo- 


160  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tion,  gave  one  of  those  deep-toned,  sonorous  barks,  peculiar  to 
his  race.  The  httle  girl  got  upon  a  footstool,  and  her  arras 
were  instantly  round  her  mother's  neck,  while  Master  Henry 
seized  her  arm,  and  vociferously  inquired  v/hat  was  the  matter, 
and  whether  his  papa  had  been  there  ?  adding,  with  more  truth 
than  filial  affection — 

"I  hate  papa,  he  always  makes  oo  cry  whenever  he 
tomes." 

Mrs.  Bousefield  having  briefly  chastised  Master  Henry,  and 
flung  him  this  little  moral  axiom  en  2MSsdnt — "  Master  Enery, 
my  dear,  it  haint  no  business  hof  yours  to  ate  your  par ;  you 
should  leave  that  to  bother  people,  hand  there's  j^^^^iy  of  peo- 
ple to  do  hit."  She  turned  to  his  mother  and  said  :  "  Now, 
pray,  my  dear  Miss  Florence,  don't  take  hon  so  ;  depend  upon 
hit,  hall  things  his  for  the  best ;  hand,  hof  course,  hit's  no  busi- 
ness hof  mine,  being  but  a  very  umble  hindividual — has  hall 
conferdential  servants  his — but  hif  so  be  has  you  would  be  said 
by  me,  you'd  go  hat  once  to  your  par,  hand  hown  hall  to  him 
— ^pars  are  not  like  'usbans,  they  can  forgive ;  a  child  his  hal- 
ways  a  child,  though  a  wife  haint  halways  a  wife,  has  you,  poor 
dear,  knows  to  your  sorrer — hang !  his  hold  haunt's  money, 
say  I.  AVould  hany  man,  has  deserved  the  name  of  a  man 
hand  a  usban,  keep  his  wife  hunder  a  cloud  bin  this  ^yay,  hand 
his  marriage  never  howned  hall  these  years,  for  hany  hold 
ooman's  money  ?  Hif  my  usban  was  hashamed  of  me,  I'd  be 
hashamed  of  him,  hand  so  I'd  pretty  soon  let  him,  hand  hall  the 
rest  of  the  world,  know — " 

"  Flo,  love,"  said  the  poor  young  mother,  making  a  great 
effort  over  herself,  "  take  your  brother,  and  go  into  the  break- 
fast-room, and  stay  there  till  Marlow  comes  in  to  put  you  to 
bed." 

The  little  girl  kissed  her  mother,  and  silently  and  instantly 
obeyed;  and  Master  Henry,  albeit  unused  to  such  imphcit  obe- 
dience, more  especially  when  bed  was  the  mooted  point — yet, 
subdued  by  his  mother's  grief,  merely  shook  himself,  with  most 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  151 

canine  earnestness,  and  put  up  his  moutli  also  to  be  kissed,  with- 
out uttering  a  word  of  resistance,  after  which,  both  the  children 
left  the  room,  followed  by  Alp ;  and  they  had  no  sooner  done 
so,  than  Mrs.  Bousefield  resumed  the  thread  of  her  discourse, 
and  the  weight  of  her  argument. 

"Now,  my  dear  lady,  do  let  me  persuade  you  to  go  hand 
tell  hall  to  your  par ;  he  looks  terrible  broken,  poor  dear  hold 
gentleman ;  hand  hit  will  be  a  comfort  to  his  art,  any  ow,  to 
know  has  you  really  hare  married,  and  ivat  ave  become  hof 
you ;  honly  think — "  (and  as  she  spoke,  she  took  the  infant 
gently  off  its  mother's  lap,  without  w^aking  it,  for  the  former 
seemed  scarcely  able  to  support  even  its  little  weight)  "  honly 
think,  I  say,  what  yoiu'  feelings  would  be,  has  a  mother,  hif  one 
hof  your  children  was  tookt  away  from  you  for  six  years,  hand 
you  didn't  know  heven  whether  they  w^as  dead  hor  halive  ? " 

"  But — but — Barlow — "  sobbed  Mrs.  Henry,  convulsively, 
"I  don't  even  know  where  my  poor  father  is  to  be  found  in 
London  ; "  for,  like  all  persons  who  feel  they  are  doing  wrong, 
she  wanted  an  excuse  to  herself,  however  faint,  for  her  con- 
duct. 

"  But  I  know — for  hit  never  rains  but  hit  pours,  has  the 
sayin  his — hand  who  should  I  stumble  hupon  next,  when  I 
goes  to  Mr.  Jacobs',  in  Wardour  Street,  habout  that  hare  ring, 
but  Mr.  Murray — Mr.  Haleiphron  Murray,  you  know — your 
par's  hold  friend  ;  hif  there  he  warn't,  sure  enough,  a-buyin  hon 
a  picture,  to  send  has  a  present  to  Mr.  Wilmot  (for  you  know 
he  halways  used  to  be  makin  hon  im  presents,  hand  such  like), 
hand  he  bordered  the  picture  to  be  sent  to  your  par's,  hat  Co- 
lonel Chipchase's,  in  Palace  Gardens,  w^hich,  you  know,  his  close 
by  here  ;  hand  I'm  sure  that's  where  he  his,  for  it  was  hinto  a 
Kensino'ton  'bus  has  1  saw  Mr.  Wilmot  a-o-ettin." 

The  qi  (levant  Florence  Wilmot  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  groaned  aloud — "Oh,  if  I  could  even  see  Alci- 
phron  Murray ! "  she  at  length  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  that's  easy  too ! "  said  Mrs.  Bousefield,  "  for  I  heerd 


152  BEHIISD    THE    SCfEKES. 

Mr.   Jacobs   say,  has  his   lodgins  was   hin  Buiy  Street,   St. 
James's." 

"  Easy  I "  echoed  the  poor  invahd.     "  Oh  !  I  dare  not ;  he 
would  Dever  forgive  me." 

"  Hif,  by  ke^  you  means  that  ere  good-for-nothink  ushan  of 
yours — hexcuse  me,  Miss  Florence,  but  blackguard  !  I  call 
him,  to  smuggle  hup  hany  wife  has  he  does  you  ;  just  has  hif 
you  was  so  much  rum  brandy,  hor  coww^er6a?ic?  baccy;  henstead 
bof  a  beautiful  young  lady,  a  deal  better-born  nor  he,  that 
hany  gent  might  be  proud  hof ;  hand  three  beautiful  hinfantSy 
fit  for  the  Queen  hand  Prince  Halbert,  hor  the  great  hexhibi- 
tion  !  but  e's  no  gentleman,  for  chains  hand  rings  don^t  make  a 
gentleman ;  hor  helse  hev'ry  second  boothe  hat  a  fair  might  set. 
hup  for  one.  Drat !  his  chains  and  rings,  say  I ;  what's  his 
chains  band  rings  ?  hat  the  best,  a  little  goold,  hand  a  few  co- 
lored stones  ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  plenty  of  brass,  hand  no 
stint  hof  glass  ;  hand,  if  that  his  a  patent  for  gentility  I  why,. 
poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  was  has  good  a  gent  has  hany  hon 
'em  ;  for,  when  'e  was  butler  hand  valet,  to  the  dowager  count- 
ess hof  Coddlecat,  he  wore  chains  hand  rings  too ;  but  when  'e 
put  the  ring  hon  my  finger  1  'e  knew  what  was  doo  to  a  ooman 
hand  a  wife ;  hand  when  'e  promised  hat  the  baiter  to  hendow 
me  with  hall  his  worldly  goods,  'e  did  not  think  that  meant  a 
burying  hon  me  ahve  betv/een  four  walls,  without  a  single  com- 
fort hor  pleasure,  while  V  was  a-flourishing  h about  the  world 
with  hevery  lugshurry  hand  hextravagance !  hand  when  V 
promised  to  worship  me  with  Hs  body,  he  did  not  think  has 
that  meant,  a  kickin  hon  me  hin  Hs  tantrums,  with  the  fag  bend 
hon  hit !  as  your  usban  (blackguard  !  I  call  him)  does  you  I 
oh,  no,  very  different  from  that !  for,  hif  so  be  has  I  could  'ave 
heat  goold,  I  might  'ave  'ad  it ;  hand  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield 
would  'ave  give  me  diamonds  hon  the  top  of  that  agin  ;  hand 
has  for  takin'  a  ride  hin  the  chay  without  me — tho'  we  kep'  a 
four  wheeler,  too — 'e'd  as  soon  'ave  thought  of  flyin'.  Hev'ry 
Sunday,  has  reglar  has  the  day  come,  hit  was  '  Susannev,  my 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  153 

dear,  how  do  you  feel  dispoged  ?  the  oss  and  his  master  his 
both  hat  your  service  ; '  for,  'aving  lived  so  long  with  the  Dow- 
ager Countess  of  Coddlecat,  he  was  a  particular  genteel  man 
was  Mr.  Bousefield  ;  very  much  so ;  but  would  I !  be  mewed 
hup  for  liany  man  has  yon  hare ;  hand  driv  here,  hand  poked 
there,  hon  the  hodd  times,  my  usban  (usban,  indeed,  black- 
guard !  I  call  him)  chose  to  come  hand  make  a  perfect  chim- 
hley  hof  the  'ouse,  with  his  nasty  smokin'.  I  'ate  those  nasty 
harhitary*  dispositions,  has  wants  hevery  think  for  self,  hand 
don't  think  the  world  wide  enough  for  hany  body  helse.  .  No ; 
before  I'd  submit  to  such  treatment,  I'd  raise  the  world  pretty 
well  habout  his  hears,  that  I  w^ould  ;  hat  hall  events,  I'd  go  to 
my  par,  hand  tell  him  hevery  think,  hand  get  hout  of  that  fel- 
ler's clutches  as  soon  has  I  could.  I'm  very  sure,  hif  your  poor 
dear  mar  was  halive,  she'd  give  you  the  same  advice.  I  honly 
know,  that  hif  so  be  has  you  'ad  a  brother,  I  would  go  to  him, 
hand,  has  your  usband  his  so  fond  hof  puttin'  hevery  think  hon 
his  hown  back,  we'd  soon  see  how  'e'd  like  the  feel  hof  a  oss- 
whip  hon  it,  which  I  tliiuk  his  the  suitablest  wear  for  gents  of 
his  descripj;ion." 

Hercules  himself  occasionally  reposed  from  his  labours,  and 
even  Mrs.  Bousefield's  tongue  (perpetual  motion  not  having  3"et 
been  discovered,)  sometimes  required  rest,  so  for  a  second  she 
paused,  quickly  adding,  however : 

"Hand  tho  I  aven't  got  the  strength  of  a  fly,  shouldn'  I  like 
to  'ave  the  layin  of  it  accrosst  his  shoulders  ! " 

Apparently  the  mere  thought  was  exhilarating,  for  she  im- 
mediately subjoined, 

"  There  !  hif  I  aven'  come  hall  hover  in  one  of  them  tre- 
menjus  great  eats  again  I  But  do,  do,  my  dear  lady,  be  said 
by  me,"  she  continued,  as  the  large  pocket-handkerchief  per- 

*  It  will  be  perceived,  that  Mrs.  Bousefield,  with  her  usual  ofF-hand 
way  of  doing  business,  had  fused  the  two  vices  of  selfishness  and  ty- 
ranny into  the  one  woi'd  "arbitrary:  "  a  very  common  species  of  ver- 
bal chemistry  among  persons  of  her  class. 


154  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

formed  the  double  function  of  fan  and  towel,  "  hand  go  to  your 
par,  hand  tell  him  hall." 

Now  this  advice,  though  sound,  was  not  quite  disinterested, 
(advice  seldom  is)  for  sooth  to  say,  Mrs.  Bousefield  was  more 
than  tired  of  playing  the  part  of  a  lost  Pleiad,  at  Magnolia 
Lodo-e,  when,  at  the  termination  of  the  continental  tour  poor 
Florence  Wilraot  had  made  after  her  fatal  elopement,  she  had 
written  to  her  mother's  old  maid,  asking  if  she  would  come  and 
superintend  her  little  menage — the  latter  "had  consented  with 
great  alacrity  to  do  so,  and  flown  from  the  cottage  at  Padding- 
ton,  w'here  her  "  widowed  art "  had  taken  refuge.  For  Mrs. 
Bousefield,  being  much  addicted  to  genteel  comedy,  and  the 
Minerva  Press,  w^as  a  great  theoretical  admirer  of  elopements, 
always  imagining  them  to  be  a  sort  of  matrimonial  mosaic 
of  moonlight,  myrtles  and  moustachios,  Brussels  lace,  blush- 
roses,  and  postilions.  But  when  she  arrived  at  Magnolia  Lodger 
perched  up  on  the  top  shelf  of  a  bye  lane,  as  she  herself  ex- 
j)ressed  it,  and  found  only  tivo  maids  without  even  one  footman  I 
and  two  young  children,  with  a  third  expected,  her  romantic 
feelings  suddenly  and  greatly  cooled  down,  and  upon  a  further 
acquaintance  with  "  Miss  Florence's  ushan^''  her  dislike  of,  and 
indignation  against  him  grew  so  excessive,  that  every  pin  she 
stuck  into  the  "  Welcome,  Sw^eet  Babe,"  pincushion,  with  the 
construction  of  which  she  solaced  her  leisure  hours,  she  devout- 
ly wished,  with  a  true  Catherine  de  Medici  resolution  of  purpose, 
that  she  had  been  sticking  into  the  '^  art  of  that  good-for-noth- 
ink  feller,^''  the  progenitor  of  the  "sweet  babe."  And  poor 
Florence — what  did  she  wish  ?  Why,  what  many  a  misguided 
girl  has  done  before,  and  will,  it  is  to  be  feared,  do  again, 
namely,  that  she  had  died  before  she  had  left  her  father's  roof, 
and  repaid  with  deception  and  ingratitude,  the  tried  and  legiti- 
mate affection  of  years,  to  peril  her  fate,  her  life,  her  all,  upon 
the  false  vows  and  spurious  love  of  a  comparative  stranger. 
The  heaviest  sin-tax  retributive  justice  imposes  upon  those  who 
deviate  from  the  right  path,  is  the  compulsory  necessity  'of  t?.k- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  155 

ing  into  their  coDfidence  inferior  and  often  unworthy  natures ; 
this  tax  had  poor  Florence  long  paid  by  instalments  to  her 
mother's  former  maid,  but  now,  in  order  to  obtain  a  cessation 
from  her  torturing  entreaties  to  disclose  her  marriage  and  pres- 
ent abode  to  her  father,  she  was  compelled  to  undergo  the  still 
further  humihation  of  confessing  to  her  that  she  dared  not  do 
so,  as  her  husband,  having  w^anted  a  few  months  of  being  of 
age  when  he  married  her,  their  marriage,  if  he  or  his  family 
chose   to   dispute    it,    would    not   be   considered    binding ;  * 

*  The  reader  may  perhaps  be  surprised  that  Florence  should  have 
been  so  ignorant  as  to  have  been  deluded  by  such  a  tale;  but  besides 
her  only  having  been  seventeen  at  the  time  of  marriage,  he  must  recol- 
lect that  English  young  ladies  of  a  much  maturer  age,  (thanks  to  their 
for  the  most  part  false  and  very  superficial  education,  began  by  vulgar 
foreign  governesses,  and  capped  by  their  mother  tongue,  as  it  flows  in 
all  its  mutilations  and  vulgar  corruptions  from  English  maid-servants) 
are  seldom  even  well  versed  in  the  history,  let  alone  the  laws,  of  their 
own  country ;  and  Florence  AVilmot's  unprincipled  husband  had  terri- 
fied her  by  showing  her  a  document  purporting  to  be  an  extract  from 
"  Cripp's  Ecclesiastical  Law,"  stating  that  "  all  marriages  celebrated  by 
license  when  either  of  the  parties  are  under  the  age  of  twenty-one 
years  (not  being  a  widow,  or  a  widower,)  without  the  consent  of  the 
father,  if  he  were  living,  or  of  the  mother  or  guardians,  shall  be  abso- 
lutely void."  But  the  real  passage  is  preceded  by  this  sentence — "It 
was  at  one  period  the  law  of  this  cowtitry  that  all  marriages  celebrated 
hy  license,  c&c,"  and  followed  by  this  after  nullifying  clause,  the  words 
*'  should  be  absolutely  void ;  "  but  such  provision,  however,  was  found 
to  be  contrary  to  general  policy,  and  has  been  repealed.  Such  a  mar- 
riage, although  without  consent,  is  now  valid,  and  the  parties  could 
not  again  contract.  As  for  Mrs.  Bousefield,  like  all  persons  of  her 
class,  laws  with  her,  like  those  of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  "altered 
not."  She  had  innumerable  fag  ends  of  old  laws  jostling  each  other 
through  her  brain,  but  with  recent  acts  of  Parliament,  and  repeals,  she 
could  not  be  expected  to  keep  pace ;  but  still  she  knew  the  great  broad 
laws  of  God,  which  are  immutable,  and  which,  from  the  lucidity  of 
their  perfection,  are  palpable  even  to  the  dullest  capacities  and  most 
blunted  perceptions :  therefore  had  Florence  taken  her  advice,  of  ap- 
pealing to,  and  confiding  in  her  sole  remaining  parent,  and  legitimate 


15G  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

that  all  bis  expectations  of  future  subsistence  were  from  bis 
aunt,  whose  avarice  and  ambition  would  never  brook  bis  hav- 
ing married  the  portionless  daughter  of  a  country  clergyman. 

At  hearing  this,  Mi-s.  Bousefield,  to  do  her  justice,  groaned 
in  unaffected  and  unmixed  sorrow,  at  length  muttering — 

"  Oh  !  the  orrid  villand,  he  his  beven  worse  than  I  thought 
him,  for  bat  that  rate  bit  bis  honly  a  Brummagem  marriage  baf- 
ter  ball !  Well,  well,  you  are  right ;  don't  do  any  think  to 
herritate  him,  bor  not  content  with  breakin  your  art,  e  might 
break  your  marriage,  the  bartful  blackguard  !  I  call  him,  to 
get  any  decent  'ooman  binto  such  a  trap  has  that !  Why 
didn't  you  never  binsist  upon  his  marrying  bof  you  hover  agin, 
when  he  was  of  hage  ?  Not  but  what  once  being  tied,  beven 
with  a  slip-knot  to  such  a  feller,  was  quite  henougb.  Oh  !  bif 
poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  was  but  alive — but  there's  no  use  bin 
wishing  for  hunpossibilities.  Gome,  there's  a  dear  lady,  don't 
take  hon  so  ;  we  must  ope  has  hall  bis  for  the  best ;  hand  I've 
brought  a  Mr.  Jacobs,  who've  behaved  very  andsome  about  that 
ring,  for  he  says  has  bits  worth  a  deal  more  money  than  you 
bask  for  bit ;  hand  so  he  came  to  see  has  bif  so  be  has  3'OU 
adn't  somethink  helse  has  you  could  let  him  ave,  of  less  valley, 
for  the  fifty  pounds  ?  " 

To  those  overwhelmed  with  one  great  and  chronic  grief, 
there  is  a  relief  even  in  the  small  change  of  petty  cares,  and  so 
poor  Florence  found,  for  drying  her  eyes,  she  said — 

"  But  unfortunately,  Barlow,  I  have  nothing  else,  at  least 
nothing  that  is  worth  anything  like  fifty  pounds ;  but  it  was 
very  honest  of  him  to  own  that  the  ring  was  worth  more,  and 
very  kind  of  him  to  come.  I  am  sorry  be  has  been  kept  wait- 
ing, you  had  better  show  him  in." 

"  Ah !  band  bif  some  people  would  heredicate  away  some 

protector,  she  might,  even  at  this  late  stage  of  her  fatal  error,  have 
been  saved  a  world  of  misery  and  remorse,  but  alas !  alas !  the  revocare 
gradus  is  the  greatest  punishment  of  sin,  because  the  most  difficult  and 
often  impossible  part  of  repentance. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  15? 

hof  their  rings,  chains  and  conundrums,  they  would  turn  hinto 
a  deal  hof  beef,  mutton,  groceries  and  clothes,  hand  save  you 
being  skinned  like  a  heel  for  heverlasting,  poor  young  creeter," 
muttered  Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  she  left  the  room.  In  the  hall  she 
met  Marlow,  leading  off  the  other  two  children,  and  to  her  she 
also  consigned  the  baby,  briefly  saying  to  her  for  the  present 
(which,  like  a  solitary  clap  of  thunder,  served  as  a  prelude  to  a 
future  storm) — 

"Hits  to  me  the  most  hunaccountablest  thing,  to  think  that 
the  hinstant  my  back  was  turned,  both  you  hand  Margaret 
should  presume  to  gohout  and  leave  Mrs.  Enry  hall  halone 
with  them  three  poor  dear  hinfants,  hand  she  so  hill."  And 
so  saying,  she  snatched  up  a  hand-candle  from  the  hall  table 
and  lit  it  from  the  one  the  nurse  held  in  her  hand  ;  after  which, 
she  opened  the  dining-room  door,  and  gliding  in  as  far  as  the 
centre  of  the  room,  she  there  dropped  one  of  those  obsequious 
and  fascinating  curtseys,  such  as  she  used  to  treat  her  best  cus- 
tomers to  in  the  palmy  days  of  "  The  Fox  and  Fiddle." 

"  Mrs.  Enery  his  Aea;ceedingly  hobliged  to  you,  Mr.  Jacobs, 
for  your  kindness  in  having  taken  the  trouble  to  come  hout  hall 
this  way,  hand  hextremely  sorry  to  ave  kept  you  waiting  so 
long ;  but  aving  a  young  famli/  to  hattend  to,  you,  Mr.  Jacobs, 
has  a  father  hand  a  usban  yourself,  can  hunderstand  that  there 
his  things  that  can  be  better  himagined  than  described  !  "  This 
last  beautifully  rounded  period  Mrs.  Bousefield  had  carefully 
retained  from  one  of  her  favourite  Minerva  Press  fictions,  enti- 
tled, '-Lavinia;  or,  the  Victim  of  Love,"  which  she  had  that 
morning  been  reading ;  and  she  thought,  as  she  declaimed  it 
with  all  the  dignity  of  a  tall  lady  in  red  cotton  velvet,  with  a 
long  train,  and  a  gold  paper  tiara,  whom  she  had  once  seen  in 
the  role  of  Statira,  at  Saddler's  Wells,  that  if  ever  man  was  ex- 
cusable in  wishing  to  commit  Wijiclde!  Jacobs  would  be  that 
man  on  that  night  1 

Upon  Jacobs'  entrance,  Florence  tried  to  rise,  in  order  the 
better  to  thank  him,  but  he  begged  of  her  to  remain  seated. 


158  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  at  once  entered  upon  the  business  which  had  brought  him, 
by  Baying— 

"  The  ring,  Ma'am,  which  you  were  good  enough  to  submit 
to  my  inspection,  is  so  much  more  valuable  than  you  seem  to 
be  aware  of,  that  I  have  brought  it  back,  as  it  would  be  a  great 
pity  you  should  part  with  it,  even  for  its  full  value,  as  it  is  one 
of  those  things  which  money  cannot  always  purchase,  and  I 
thought  you  might  have  something  less  rare,  for  which  I  should 
be  very  happy  to  give  you  the  sum  you  require." 

"  You  are  very  good,  and  I  feel  your  kindness  as  it  deserves, 
I  assure  you ;  it  is  a  struggle  for  me  to  part  with  that  ring,  as 
it  was  my  mother's,  and  has  been  in  our'family  for  centuries, 
in  fact,  it  was  given  to  an  ancestress  of  mine,  in  James  the 
First's  time,  by  Lady  Hunsdon,  to  whom  Queen-  Elizabeth  had 
given  it  in  one  of  her  '  Progresses,'  when  she  stopped  at  Lord 
Hunsdon's,  and  it  was  said  to  be  the  counterpart  of  the  ring 
which  EHzabeth  had  given  to  poor  Lord  Essex." 

"  Well,  that  makes  it  still  more  valuable,"  remarked  Jacobs. 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Florence  ;  "  but  you  know  necessity  has  no 
law." 

"  The  more  reason,  and  the  more  chance  then,  that  it  should 
have  y^is^zce,  Ma'am,"  rejoined  Jacobs. 

"  But,  unfortunately,  I  really  have  nothing  else  at  all  worth 
the  sum  I  require." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  here  is  something  that  perhaps  you  will 
not  miss  so  much,"  said  Jacobs,  walking  up  to  a  small  oil  paint- 
ing, consisting  of  a  group  of  three  badly-drawn  figures,  meant 
for  angels,  which  hung  in  a  recess  at  one  side  of  the  mantel- 
piece. 

"  Oh  !  that  is  a  mere  daub,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  ;  "  not  worth 
fifty  shillings,  much  less  fifty  pounds." 

"  You  underrate  it,"  replied  Jacobs,  taking  it  down,  and 
aflfecting  to  examine  it  minutely  in  every  sense  ;  "  for  it  is,  or  I 
am  much  mistaken,  one  of  Domenico  Micharino's,  and  I  shall 
be  very  happy  to  give  you  fifty  pounds  for  it." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  159 

"  Oh !  impossible  !  it  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  even  of 
the  Florentine  school." 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  in  his  early  manner,  when  he  was  still 
with  his  benefactor,  Beccafnmi,  before  he  placed  him  with  Tozzo 
Capanna  at  Siena." 

Even  this  illustrious  parentage,  which  Jacobs,  with  great 
delicacy  and  good  feeling,  so  glibly  invented  for  the  daub  he 
held  in  his  hand,  did  not  quite  deceive  the  poor  invalid,  who 
said,  as  the  tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes, 

"  You  are  very,  verij  good,  very  kind  ;  but  I  am  convinced 
that  daub  cannot  be  worth  fifty  pounds,  and  I  should  be  cheat- 
ing you  were  I  to  take  it." 

"  Well,  but  my  good  lady,"  laughed  Jacobs,  appropriating 
the  picture  bj  wrapping  it  up  in  his  handkei'chief,  and  then  tak- 
ing the  black  leather  pocket-book  fi-om  his  side-pocket,  and  ab- 
stracting therefrom  two  £20  notes  and  two  £5,  and  laying 
them  on  the  table,  '•  Only  think,  if  it  is  so,  what  a  feather  it  will 
be  in  your  cap  to  have  it  to  say  that,  gentle  and  feminine  as  you 
looh^  you  have  outdone  all  the  cle\er  and  fast  men  in  London, 
by  actually  doing  a  Jew  !  " 

"  But  as  my  ambition  does  not  lie  that  way,  you  must  ex- 
cuse my  selecting  you  for  my  victim,"  said  Florence,  with  a 
melancholy  smile. 

"  Don't  you  know,"  retorted  Jacobs,  as  he  prepared  to  leave 
the  room  with  the  picture  under  his  arm,  "  that  there  is  no  res- 
cue for  willing  victims  ?  " 

"  Ha  !  very  true  Ae?ideed,  Mr.  Jacobs,"  sighed  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field,  with  a  look  which,  to  requote  her  quotation,  "may  be 
more  easily  imagined  than  described." 

"  Do  not  think  me  ungrateful  for  your  kindness,  which,  be- 
lieve me,  I  feel  to  its  uttermost  extent,"  cried  Florence,  as  she 
tottered  towards  him  before  he  had  reached  the  door,  and  laid 
her  shadowy  hand  upon  his  arm  to  arrest  his  departure ;  "  but 
I  cannot  accept  the  money  you  have  left  for  that  worthless  daub, 
without  you  will  oblige  me  by,  at  all  events,  keeping  this  ring 


160  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

till  I  have  repaid  you  what  I  can  only  consider  as  a  loan,  and  a 
most  kind  one." 

"  My  dear  lady,  if  you  think  that  your  ring  would  be  safer 
in  my  house  than  in  yours,  T  will  most  willingly  take  charge  of 
it  for  you,  but  I  do  assure  you  you  owe  me  nothing,  only  it  is 
not  civil  of  you  to  decry  "niy  -pictures  ;  every  one  is  not  such  a 
terrible  connohseur  as  you  seem  to  think  yourself;  and  even 
connoisseurs,  you  know,  often  pay  dearly  for  their  ignorance, 
therefore  I  have  no  doubt  that,  with  a  little  judicious  vamping 
up,  my  Micharino  will  realise  its  full  value,  for  I  should  be  sorry 
to  send  you  a  Flemish  account  of  a  Florentine  picture  ! " 

"But  you  will  keep  this  ring  till  I  repay  you,  will  you  not  ? " 
re-urged  Florence. 

"  As  I  before  said,  I  will  with  pleasure  take  care  of  it  for 
you ;  but  mind  it  must  be  upon  the  express  condition  that  it  is 
to  have  no  reference  whatsoever  to  our  little  transaction  about 
this  picture  ;  on  the  contrary,  as  long  as  this  ring  remains  in  my 
keeping,  you  may  consider  that  you  have  £500  at  your  banker's, 
for  that  is  wdiat  I  consider  (speaking  within  bounds)  is  about 
the  value  of  it." 

Beyond  a  certain  point,  it  becomes  ingratitude  to  reject  an 
obligation  that  is  delicately  as  well  as  generously  offered.  Flor- 
ence felt  this,  and  therefore  made  no  further  demur  about  ac- 
cepting Jacobs'  kindness,  but  merely  extended  her  hand  to 
him,  leaving  within  his,  as  she  shook  it,  the  little  green  velvet 
case  containing  Lady  Hundson's  ring. 

"  Mrs.  Bousefield,  not  thinking  the  moon  sufficient,  took  the 
candle  to  reconduct  Jacobs  across  the  lawn,  not,  however,  with- 
out having  first  pressed  upon  his  acceptance  "  a  cup  of  tea,  hor 
a  glass  of  ot  negus  ;  such  as  she  used  to  make  for  poor  dear 
Mr.  Bousefield."  But  being  a  sultry  night  in  June,  he  resisted 
all  these  Circean  blandishments,  and  walked  steadily  to  the  gate, 
merely  stopping  to  wnsh  his  conductress  good  night,  and  ask  her 
where  was  the  nearest  place  he  should  meet  w'ith  an  omnibus. 
As  the  gate  closed  upon  him,  and  the  widow  retraced  her  steps 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  161 

across  the  lawn,  she  silenced  the  nightingales  with  the  follow- 
ing soliloquy  : 

"  Homnibus,  hindeed  !  'busses  was  hinvented  before  Horani- 
buses.  Poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  would  not  have  wanted  hany 
ooman  to  tell  him  where  to  find  a  'buss ;  but  laws  !  the  men's 
such  a  pack  of  noodles  now,  very  different  from  what  they  used 
to  be." 


SECTION"  V. 

"Ye  have  need  of  patience."— SeJ.  x.  36. 

"  He  has  every  thing  that  an  honest  man 
Should  not  have.    Of  what  an  honest  man 
Should  have,  he  has  nothing."— /SAa^s^ere. 

"  And  deadlier  than  the  Syroc,  or  Simoom, 
Unkindness,  blighting  young  affection's  bloom. 
In  nature's  darkest  frowns  there  lurks  below, 
No  deeper  vengeance  that  survives  the  blow." 

Ladt/  Marshall's  Odds  and  Ends." 

Mrs.  Bousefield  had  scarcely  regained  the  hall  door,  before  a 
loud  and  violent  ringing  at  the  gate  obliged  her  to  return, 
more,  it  must  be  confessed,  out  of  curiosity  than  complaisance, 
for  she  '■'■  dratted  !  "  the  gate  (whatever  that  means)  the  whole 
-way  she  went,  and  muttered  :  "  Swiffins  himself  w^ould  have 
give  way  hunder  the  co}^tinual  ringing  of  that  ere  gate  bell, 
thouo-h  e  ad  the  legs  of  a  chairman,  whereof  I  avent  got  those 
of  a  fly,"  which,  exclusive  of  the  comphment  to  Swiffins  (who 
had  been  the  Dowager  Lady  Coddlecat's  porter)  was  strictly 
true  nevertheless ;  and  notwithstanding  this  great  anatomical 
disadvantage,  which  Mrs.  Bousefield  seemed  to  think  she  labour- 
ed under,  she  reached  the  gate  with  equal,  if  not  greater  celer- 
ity, and  still  continuing  her  theories  of  creation  out  of  this  en- 
tomological chaos,  she  seemed  to  have  purloined  the  sting  of  a 


BEHIND    THE    SCEXES.  163 

wasp  for  the  end  of  her  tongue,  determined  to  give  the  visitors 
(whoever  it  might  be,)  the  benefit  of  it,  as  she  pulled  open  the 
gate  with  so  violent  a  jerk,  that  had  she  not  clung  to  the  han- 
dle as  pertinaciously  as  she  did  to  her  weeds,  it  must  have 
knocked  her  down  more'effectually,  than  any  feather  yet  moult- 
ed from  the  wing  of  Time ;  nor  did  the  intense  glare  of  two 
patent  carriage  lamps,  coming  full  in  her  eyes,  add  to  her  good 
humour,  more  especially  when  she  perceived  the  well-known 
dark  green  striped  brougham,  with  its  wheels  picked  out  in 
cream  colour,  and  bright  silver  centres,  while  the  impatient  paw- 
ing of  the  high-mettled  and  thorough-bred  chestnuts,  seemed  to 
partake  of  the  nature  of  their  owner.  Not  giving  the  servant 
time  to  get  down,  the  occupant  of  the  carriage,  a  young  man  in 
full  dress — for  he  was  going  out  to  a  dinner — jumped  out,  near- 
ly flooring  Mrs.  Bouseiield  in  his  hurry,  which  was  no  won- 
der, since  Pope  has  told  us  that 

"A  wit'a  Vi feather." 

"How's  your  mistress,  Barlow  ?"  said  he,  as  he  rushed  past 
her. 

Now,  notwithstanding  the  widow's  rooted  aversion  to  this 
personage,  who  was  no  other  than  Florence's  husband,  yet  so 
strong  was  her  respect  for  carriages,  and  horses,  and  all  the  out- 
ward and  visible  signs  of  wealth,  which  she  shared  in  common 
with  all  persons  of  her  class,  that  had  his  satanic  majesty  come 
m  propria  persona^  m  so  unexceptionable  a  turn-out,  however 
her  olfactory  nerves  might  have  been  offended  by  the  sulphu- 
reous odour  on  his  handkerchief,  of  "  Extrait  cCKnfer,^''  or  her 
eye  for  the  beautiful  have  been  shocked  by  the  unsymmetrical 
cleft  of  his  feet,  yet  nevertheless,  her  curtsey  would  have  been 
as  deferential  as  it  was  in  the  present  instance,  when  she  re- 
plied to  Mr.  Henry's  query  : 

"  She's  hany  think  but  well,  sir ;  hand  I  don't  see  has  she 
his  hever  likely  to  be  hotherwise  bin  this  mopified  solemn- 


164  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

choly*  land's  liend,  hor  ratlier  gravis  hend,  /  call  it,  sort  of 
place." 

"  Ah  I "  said  Mr.  Henry,  stopping  suddenly  short  in  his  on- 
ward career  and  pulling  his  under  lip,  "you  think  this  place  too 
dull  for  her?  Well,  I  have  long  tht)ughtso;  and,  indeed,  I 
see  and  feel  she  wants  change  of  air ;  she  is  always  so  much 
better  abroad,  but  I  cannot  persuade  her.  Now,  I  wish  yf)u, 
Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  a  sensible,  experienced  woman,  would  try 
and  convince  her  that  she — that  is,  that  her  health  would  be  so 
much  better  abroad  ;  the  change  of  scene ;  the  change  of  air ; 
in  short,  the  whole  thing  would  be  better." 

Now  it  so  happened,  that  in  his  ordinary  commerce  with 
the  widow,  Mr.  Henry  called  her  Barlow  ;  and  it  was  only  on 
special  occasions,  like  the  present,  when  he  wished  to  gain  her 
"  vote  and  interest "  for  any  particular  point,  that  he  bestowed 
upon  her  her  magniloquent  matronly  title  of  Bousefield.  So 
well  aware  was  she  of  this  fact,  that  she  invariably  began  to 
starch  up  into  the  same  sort  of  inflexible,  unyielding  rigidity  as 
one  of  her  own  widow's  caps,  when  he  so  addressed  her,  being 
perfectly  aware  that  he  wanted  something  from  her,  and  equally 
determined  to  withhold  that  something ;  or,  at  least,  grant  it 
as  unwillingly  as  possible ;  moreover,  the  wooden  gates  had 
now  shut  out  the  dazzling  equipage  from  her  view,  and  nothing 
but  the  objects  of  her  rooted  aversion,  the  obnoxious  chains, 
studs,  and  rings,  glittered  before  her  ;  therefore,  tightly  folding 
her  armSj  as  if  to  gird  her  stern  resolve  more  firmly  around  her, 
she  replied  in  her  driest  and  most  ungracious  tone,  with  the 
usual  emphatic  pause  between  every  word — 

"Hit  his  because  I  ham  han  hexperienced  ooman,  sir,  both 
has  wife  and  widder,  that  I  could  not  think  hof  recommending 
hof  Mrs.  Enery  to  go  habroad,  hunless  she  ad  the  purtection 
of  a  usban,  hand  such  comforts  has  a  lady  orght  to  ave  ;  for  I 


*  This  delicious  word  is  Sam  Slick's,  and  is  worthy  of  finding  its 
way  into  the  lexicons  of  at  least  all  soleinncholy  nations,  like  England. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  165 

know  what  furrin  parts  his  too  well,  without  neither  feather  beds 
nor  footmen,  nor  hany  one  hindividual  thing  to  make  life  hen- 
durable,  hever  to  think  hof  recommending  hof  hany  lady,  let 
alone  one  hin  the  delicat  state  hof  ealth  hof  Mrs.  Enery,  to  hen- 
counter  with  hany  think  hof  the  sort,  hunless,  as  I  said  before, 
you  was  to  haccompany  hof  her  has  a  usban,  hand  have  as  sich, 
with  a  courier  fargone,*  and  such  like  ;  hon  the  contraivi/,  my 
hadvice,  has  far  has  such  a  umble  individgel  has  a  conferden- 
tial  servant  may  persume  to  give  hadvice,  would  be,  donH  go  ; 
for  /  wouldn't  go  for  to  be  poked  hofF  hout  hof  the  way  for 
nobody  ! — that  I  wouldn't." 

"  Oh  !  I  mean  to  join  her  the  moment  the  House  is  up,'' 
said  Mr.  Henry,  caressing  what  Mrs.  Bousefield  was  wont  to 
denominate  "one  of  them  little  tiveedledum^  ridiclus  curW''  of 
his  right  whisker ;  for  it  appears  that  the  late  "  Mr.  Bouse- 
field "  was  not  in  the  habit  of  dividing  his  whiskers  into  sections 
in  this  manner,  but  went  on  "  the  greatest  happiness  of  the 
greatest  number  "  system,  and  brushed  them  out  into  one  grand 
universal  equality. 

"Ha!"  muttered  Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  she  followed  "Mrs, 
Enery's  master,"  as  she  called  him  into  the  hall,  "  most  ladies,  I 
should  think,  was  pretty  well  hup  to  wot  the  ouse  means  by 
this  time;  for  them  two  ouses  hof  parliament  haint  nothink 
more  than  ha  reglar  blind  hand  harbour  for  hall  the  goings  hon 
hof  the  gents  hof  hevery  kind,  for  when  hever  they'se  been 
hafter  hany  think  has  they  shouldn't  (which  his  pretty  well  the 
honly  think  has  they  hever  his  hafter),  hof  course  it's  halways 
'  I've  been  down  hat  the  ouse,  my  dear,'  hand  so,  hof  course, 
they  ave^  at  some  sort  of  ouse  hor  bother  !  though  for  that  mat 
ter  hit  his  much  hof  a  muchness,  six  hof  one,  a//'-a-dozen  hof 
the  bother." 

And   with   this  concluding  reflection  she  flung  open   the 

*  It  is  supposed  that  Mrs.  Bousefield  meant  a.fourgon;  but,  as  "^a 
pelle  se  moque  du  fourgon" — and  she  was  evidently  enacting  the 
former, — she  transformed  the  latter  into  faro;one. 


1()6  BEHIND    THE    SCENES, 

drawing-room  door,  if  not  with  the  grace,  at  least  with  all  the 
a2:)lo7nh  of  a  groom  of  the  chambers,  and  announced — 

"Mr.  Enery,  mum  !" 

"Well,  my  dear  Flo,  how  do  you  feel  to-day?"  said  he, 
holding  out  two  fingers  to  her,  but  at  the  same  time  stopping 
before  a  glass  to  arrange  his  hair,  so  that  in  order  to  take  them 
she  must  have  risen  from  the  sofa  and  walked  half-way  across 
the  room,  which  she  did  not  do.  Having  at  length  sufficiently 
hyperionised  himself,  as  he  conceived,  he  walked  to  the  sofa, 
and  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"  Really,  my  dear  Florence,"  cried  he,  aff"ecting  to  look  into 
her  pale  and  wasted  face  with  much  concern,  "  I  am  quite  un- 
happy about  you ;  this  place  evidently  does  not  agree  with 
you  ;  I  must  get  you  abroad,  my  dear  love,  and  I  will  join  you 
the  moment  the  House  is  up." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  would  rather  remain  quietly  here ;  I  feel  I 
could  never  bear  the  journey,"  said  the  poor  invalid,  with  a 
hollow  cough,  that  but  too  well  confirmed  her  assertion;  after 
which  she  added,  stretching  out  her  hand  towards  the  bell,  as 
if  she  dreaded  a  tete-d-tete  wdth  her  husband,  "  I  don't  think  the 
children  are  in  bed  yet ;  do  wish  them  good-night,  Henry." 

"  Oh  !  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  disturb  them,"  cried  he,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  hers  to  prevent  her  ringing  the  bell ;  "  pray 
my  dear  Florence,  spare  me  their  quotidian  paw^ings,  and  when 
they  grow^  up  I  shall  be  happy  to  receive  the  aggregate  of  their 
filial  duty  and  aff"ection." 

The  poor  mother  sighed ;  the  husband  frownied  ;  for  there 
is  no  conjugal  high  treason  like  sighs  or  tears,  before  the  cause 
of  them. 

"  Come,  Florence,"  he  resumed,  taking  her  small  thin  hand 
in  his,  "  don't  be  foolish  ;  is  there  anything  you  wish  for,  or 
anything  that  you  wish  to  do  ? " 

"  Oh,  Henry  ! "  she  exclaimed,  bursting  into  tears,  as  her 
head  fell  upon  his  shoulder,  from  which  he  rather  recoiled,  for 
the  ice  within  dreaded  lest  the  snowy  folds  of  his  cambric  shirt 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  167 

should  be  deranged,  "  Do,  do  let  me  only  tell  my  father  where 
I  am,  and  that  I  am  your  wife^  and  not  your  mistress,  which 
I'm  sure  the  Avhole  neighbourhood,  including  your  servants, 
think  me ;  he  is  in  town,  close  by  here,  in  Palace  Gardens  ; 
Barlow  saw  him  to-day,  and  she  says  he  looks  both  broken,  and 
broken-hearted." 

Upon  hearing  this,  her  husband  effectually  shook  her  off, 
and  starting  from  the  sofa,  paced  the  room  with  folded  arras, 
and  sternly-knit  brows,  as  he  champed  his  nether  lip  till  the 
blood  nearly  flowed  from  it ;  at  length,  pausing  opposite  his 
wife,  he  said,  in  a  half-reproachful,  half-resigned  voice — 

"  I  see,  Florence,  you  are  bent  upon  ruining  me.  I  don't 
even  blame  you,  perhaps  the  proceeding  is  a  natural  one ;  I 
only  doubt  whether,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  our 
position,  it  is  a  very  humane  one  ;  but  the  world  will,  of  course, 
acquit  you,  and  I  hope,  upon  reflection,  your  own  heart  will  do 
the  same ;  you  are  aware  that  our  marriage  once  known,  all  my 
future  prospects  in  life  are  blasted — all  hope  of  a  single  six- 
pence from  my  aunt  is  at  an  end.  But,  of  course,  you  are  my 
wife  ;  only  remember,  your  tenure  of  the  title  is  mij  honour  f'' 

However  a  man  that  she  had  once  loved  may  pile  up  the 
faggots  for  a  woman's  auto-da-fe^  the  moment  a  spark  flies  out 
from  the  pyre  upon  him,  and  that  he  winces  under  it,  her  heart 
immediately  softens,  and  yearns  towards  him  ;  and  so  did  that 
of  Florence,  at  her  selfish  husband's  insinuation — of  her  exoner- 
ation being  his  ruin  ;  but  the  last  dastardly  inuendo  of  her 
merely  being  his  wife  upon  suflferance,  or  the  impalpable  tenure 
of  his  honour  !  and  above  all,  the  withering  sneer  with  which 
it  was  uttered,  froze  up  all  her  gushing  feehngs,  and  she  drew 
up,  cold,  calm,  and  impassable,  as  if  she  had  been  a  statue,  or 
had  become  stone  of  his  stone  !  such  perfect  marble  did  she  feel 
towards  him.  But  he  soon  perceived  his  error,  and  endeavoured 
to  repair  it ;  for  no  one  was  better  aw^•^re,  that  more  flies  are 
caught  with  honey  than  by  vinegar  ;  and  when  a  scheme  had 
to  be  worked  out,  and  a  point  to  be  carried,  he  knew,  that  even 


16$  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

with  a  wife  (that  legitimate  target),  blows  and  threats  were  not 
the  arms  wherewith  to  insure  a  victory ;  so,  changing  his  tac- 
tics, he  now  approached,  and  taking  her  hand,  said, — 

"  Forgive  me,  Florence,  if  I  said  anything  to  wound  you, 
which  was  the  farthest  possible  thing  from  my  intention,  I  do 
assure  you ;  but  when  a  man  is  badgered  and  hunted  from 
without,  and  finds  no  comfort  in  his  home,  only  constant  tears 
and  reproaches,  and  has  no  future  prospect  but  ruin  staring  at 
him  from  an  eminence,  he  is  not  always  master  of  himself." 

"  Ah  !  if  this  was  your  home,  Henry,  humble  as  it  is,  you 
might  perhaps  find  more  happiness  in  it,  than  you  do  in  the 
brilliant  but  hollow  world  beyond  it,"  she  rephed,  raising  her 
tearful  eyes  to  his. 

"  Well,  well,  and  so  it  would  be  in  time,  if  my  own  Flo 
would  only  hsten  to  reason  ;  "  and  he  passed  his  arm  round  her 
waist,  and  drew  her  coaxingly  towards  him, 

"  Oh,  Henry,  have  I  not  listened  for  six  long  miserable  years 
to  what  you  call  reason,  till  I  h^ve  nearly  lost  my  own  ?  " 

"  But  listen  to  me  now,  my  own  dear  love.  If  we  were 
abroad,  you  might  then  write  to  your  father,  declaring  our  mar- 
riage, only  enjoining  him  to  secrecy." 

"  It's  no  marriage,  and  you  know  it,"  broke  in  Florence, 
passionately. 

"  Well,  but — the  moment  my  aunt  dies — and  hang  it,  she 
i:an''t  live  for  ever,  though  old  women  are  most  pertinaciously 
obstinate  about  their  vitality — it  has  always  been  my  intention 
to  marry  you  over  again,  and  so  make  my  own  little  Flo  doubly 
mine,  thereby  proving  to  all  the  world  how  much  '  the  wife 
is  dearer  than  the  bride,' "  which  last  quotation  he  enunciated 
in  a  theatrical  tone  of  stage  devotion. 

"  Oh  !  Henry,  Henry  !  "  cried  Florence,  solemnly,  "  there 
must  be,  there  will  be,  depend  upon  it,  a  curse  upon  any  bridal 
where  death  is  waited  for,  as  the  high  priest,  to  celebrate  it." 

"  Who  told  you  I  was  waiting  for  any  death  to  marry  ? " 
almost  shrieked  her  husband,  as  he  darted  from  her,  as  if  a  ser- 
pent had  stung  him,  while  his  eyes  glared  like  a  tiger  at  bay. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  169 

"  Heavens  !  how  you  frighten  me  !  Did  you  not  yourself 
say,  that  when  your  aunt  died — " 

"  True,  true,  love,  what  a  fool  I  am,"  said  he,  re-seating  him- 
s^f  beside  her,  and  passing  his  handkerchief  over  his  forehead, 
as  if  with  that  one  gesture  he  had  thrust  back  a  whole  infernal 
legion ;  but,  my  own  Flo,  you  are  not  well ;  and  we  will  talk 
of  oLir  future  plans  some  other  time." 

"  There  is  no  future  for  some,  but  eternity,"  sighed  the  poor 
sufferer,  as  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if,  at  all 
events,  she  was  anxious  to  shut  out  the  present. 

"  My  little  wife  is  low  and  hipped,  and  decidedly  I  must 
get  her  out  of  this,"  said  her  companion,  caressingly,  "  for  as 
that'd — d  long-tongued  molehill,  overgrown  Avith  weeds  Bar 
low,  says,  the  place  is  too  dull  and  secluded  for  you." 

"  Not  so,  Henry  :  would  it  were  even  more  so — a  perfect 
tomb — provided  it  could  hide  me  from  every  one,  but  most  of 
all,  from  myself!" 

Another  strong  frown,  knit,  like  an  iron  vice,  the  gentle- 
man's brow,  but  he  quickly  exchanged  it  for  a  smile,  as  he 
said, — 

"  I  had  come  to  ask  my  little  Flo  a  favour,  one  which  I 
don't  think  she'll  refuse  me  ;  will  she  ? " 

"  Alas,  what  is  there  left  me,  either  to  give,  or  to  refuse  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  own  love,  there  is — for  instance,  to  give  me 
the  greatest  happiness,  by  consenting  to  go  abroad,  and  take  care 
of  your  health  ;  or  else  to  entail  upon  me  the  greatest  misery, 
by  refusing  to  do  so." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Florence,  languidly,  "  we  were  not  to  talk 
of  that  any  more  to-night." 

"  Neither  will  we,  it  shall  be  all  as  my  little  Flo  pleases. 
And  now  for  my  request,  which  is,  that  you  would  lend  me  that 
ring  of  Lady  Hunsdon's,  as  I  am  to  dine  at  Lord  Antwerp's  to- 
da}^,  and  he  is  all  cinque  cento,  so  I  want  to  show  it  to  him." 

"  How  very  unfortunate  that  I  have  not  got  it  here  ;  but 


1*70  BEHIND    THE    SCEKES. 

to-morrow  I  could  get  it  for  you,"  said  poor  Florence,  as  a  crim- 
son flush  suffused  her  pale  cheek. 

"  Not  got  it  here  I  why  what  on  earth  have  you  done  with 
it?" 

"  I — I — had  two  bills  that  must  be  paid  to-morrow  ;  and  I 
wanted  fifty  pounds,  and  so  I  gave  that  ring  as , security  for  it." 

"  Wanted  fifty  pounds  !  and  so  gave  a  ring  worth  several 
hundreds  as  security  for  it.  I  say  nothing  of  the  egregious 
folly  of  such  a  proceeding ;  but  I  wonder  your  sense  of  pro- 
priety did  not  point  out  to  you  the  indignity  of  such  a  transac- 
tion on  the  part  of  my  wife  !  " 

"  Ah  !  who  knows  that  I  am  your  wife,  Henry  ? — or  any- 
body's wife ;  and  how  am  I  to  pay  the  house  bills,  when  you 
always  tell  me  you  have  no  money,  and  that  I  must  wait." 

"  Money  ! "  echoed  Mr.  Henry,  rising,  and  actually  endanger- 
ing the  sit  of  his  hair,  by  thrusting  the  fingers  of  both  hands 
through  it,  "  d — n  me  if  I  don't  think  women  believe  that  men 
are  made  of  money ;  it  must  be  devilish  bad  management  to 
be  always  wanting  money  for  this  small  house.  Why  don't 
you  feed  those  brats  upon  oatmeal  and  potatoes  ?  No  children 
so  hardy  and  healthy  as  those  of  the  Scotch  and  Irish  peasantry 
who  are  so  fed.  I  have  certain  theories  about  the  training  of 
children  ;  and  now,  once  for  all,  positively  forbid  their  being 
stuffed  with  beef  and  mutton  till  they  become  little  premature 
obesities." 

"  But  it  is  not  only  their  food,  which  is  very  trifling,  for  they 
are  not  crammed  with  beef  and  mutton,  but  they  must  be 
clothed  too;  and  even  the  smallest  establishment,  however  eco- 
nomically conducted,  is  a  continual  source  of  expense,  for  ser- 
vants must  eat,  at  least  I  know  they  will  do  so." 

"  Must  be  clothed !  another  prejudice  that  I  particularly 
object  to.  Read  Rousseau's  Emilius ;  let  them  sprawl  about 
almost  naked;  that  is  the  way  to  rear  them,  if  you  would  have 
healthy  children,  and  not  little  puny,  stunted  beings." 

"  I  have  read  Rousseau  at  your  request,  and  the  beauty  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  171 

his  style  only  appeared  to  me  to  bring  out  into  stronger  relief 
the  hideousness  of  his  moral  obliquity,  and  his  gross  and  reckless 
violation  of  all  the  laws  even  of  Nature,  the  only  Divinity 
wliich  he  professed  to  worship,  nor  did  her  high  Priestess  Truth 
fare  one  bit  better  at  his  hands." 

"  Oh  !  so  we  are  erecting  ourselves  into  a  critic,"  sneered  the 
husband,  suddenly  pausing  in  his  peripatetics,  and  looking  with 
glaring  eyes  at  his  victim.  "  But  permit  me  to  assure  you,  ma- 
dam, that  sarcasm  disfigures  a  woman's  mouth,  even  more  than 
wrinkles." 

"  I  am  not  sarcastic,"  rejoined  Florence  mildly,  "  at  least,  I 
did  not  intend  to  be  so.  I  merely  meant  to  say,  that  I  did  not 
think  the  precepts  of  a  bad  man,  however  faultless  the  style 
might  be  with  which  he  gilt  them,  could  ever  be  good  or  de- 
sirable guides,  and  what  I  once  heard  one  of  Rousseau's  compa- 
triots say  of  him,  I  think  was  a  just  estimate  of  the  man;  he 
said  that  instead  of  being  '  L'homme  de  la  nature,  et  de  la  v&rite^ 
as  he  called  himself,  he  was  in  reality  Vhomme  de  beaux  senti- 
ments, et  d^ndignes  actions  !  " 

"  AVhat  a  d — d  narrow-minded  beast  your  friend  must  have 
been  !  quite  incapable  of  comprehending  such  a  vast  genius  as 
Rousseau's." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  was  narrow-minded,  but  I  know 
he  had  a  large  heart,  and  was  a  thoroughly  good  man  in  every 
relationship  of  life." 

Again  Mr.  Henry  frowned,  but  this  time  it  was  with  the  ac- 
companiment of  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  he  said,  "  Well^ 
there  is  no  use  in  w'omen  talking  about  what  they  don't  under- 
stand, or  in  expecting  that  the  finite  should  appreciate  the  infinite ; 
but,  may  I  ask  into  whose  hands  you  so  imprudently  (and  I  must 
say  with  such  a  total  disregard  to  my  honour  and  your  own 
dignity)  entrusted  that  very  valuable  ring,  which  of  course  you 
will  never  see  again ;  for  having  got  it  on  such  easy  terms,  the 
man  would  be  a  fool  to  give  it  up." 

"  You  wrong  him,  I  assure  you,"  said  Florence  warmly,  "  for 


172  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

nothing  could  be  more  generous,  nay,  more  noble,  than  his  con- 
duct !  for  he  gave  me  the  fifty  pounds  for  a  small  picture  worth  in 
reality  nothing,  and  wanted  not  even  to  take  the  ring  at  all,  which 
he  said  was  worth  £500,  but  T  insisted  that  he  should  at  least  keep 
it  till  I  had  repaid  him  the  fifty  pounds  ;  and  yet  this  man  was 
a  Jew.     Would  that  there  were  more  Christians  like  him !  " 

"  And  pray  what  is  the  name  of  this  Mosaic  dove  ?  or  goose, 
perhaps,  would  be  the  more  appropriate  epithet  for  him." 

"  His  name  is  Jacobs,  he  keeps  one  of  those  curiosity  shops 
in  Wardonr  Street." 

"  Hell !  and  the  Devil  !  "  vociferated  her  husband  with  al- 
most maniac  fury,  "  the  idea  of  your  becoming  lid  with  that 
fellow  !  When,  where  in  the  name  of  Lucifer  did  you  become 
acquainted  with  this  man  ?  " 

"  Really,  Henry,  you  alarm  me,  for  you  speak  of  him  as  if 
he  were  a  fiend,  whereas  he  struck  me  as  being  one  of  the  kind- 
est and  most  benevolent  of  men,  though  I  can't  say  that  I  know 
him,  for  I  never  saw  him  before  to-day." 

"  And  how  came  you  to  see  him  to-day  ?  "  asked  her  com- 
panion, his  eyes  flaming,  and  his  voice  gasping  between  every 
word,  as  if  his  throat  had  been  as  dry  and  calcined  as  an  extinct 
volcano. 

"  It  was  Barlow,  whom  I  trusted  with  my  ring  to  dispose 
of,  who  brought  him  here,  for  he  was  too  honest  to  take  advan- 
tage of  my  necessity." 

"  Here  !  so  he  has  been  here  !  in  this — in  my  house  !  And 
he  knows  who  you  are  !  " 

"  He  knows  that  I  am  called  Mrs.  Henry !  "  replied  Flor- 
ence, with  a  look  so  cold,  so  penetrating,  so  almost  contemptu- 
ous, that  it  reduced  the  burning  rage  of  her  husband's  cheek 
into  the  ashy  pallor  of  shame. 

He  seemed  to  ponder  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  resuming 
his  caressing,  wooing  tone,  said,  as  he  re-seated  himself  beside 
her,  and  took  her  burning  but  almost  shadowy  hand, — 

"  Forgive  me,  my  dear  Florence,  all  my  wayward  violence,  but 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  IfS 

men  have  ten  thousand  shoals  and  quic'ksands  in  public  life, 
which  women  in  the  safe  harbours  of  their  own  homes  never 
dream  of" 

''But  why  should  thev  not  dream  of  them  ?  I  do  not  ask 
to  share  your  happiness  or  your  triumphs,  Heniy  ;  but  surely 
your  sorrows  and  your  dangers,  if  I  am  your  wife  !  I  have  a  right 
to  share.  What  is  the  use  of  my  being  plunged  in  the  midst 
of  this  sea  of  troubles,  if  I  may  not  at  least  serve  as  a  Pharos  to 
you  in  time  of  danger  ?  Tell  me — do  tell  me  who  and  what 
this  man  is  who  seems  so  good,  so  kind,  that  he  should  be  your 
enemy  ? " 

This  phoenix-like  devotion,  rising  up  bright  and  pure  as  it 
did.  from  out  the  ashes  of  an  extinct  love,  almost — 

"Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek." 

Besides,  extremes  meet,  and  never  oftener  than  in  bad  natures, 
for  all  the  passions  being,  as  Balzac  truly  says,  "  essentially  Jes- 
uitical,^'' they  never  move  but  in  triplets,  namely  the  pro  and 
the  con,  accompanied  by  the  prudential  ambassador,  who  has  to 
report  to  the  Grand  Inquisitor  SELF.  Mr.  Henry,  therefore, 
perceived  that  fusion,  and  not  freezing,  w^as  the  process  by 
which  he  could  best  mould  his  victim  to  his  purposes. 

"  Florence  ! "  cried  he,  folding  her  in  his  arms,  "  you  are  an 
angel,  and  I  will  yet  be  worthy  of  you,  or,  at  least,  I  will  try  to 
be  so.  When  I  called  this  Jacobs  my  enemy,  the  term  was 
perhaps  too  strong,  and,  therefore,  inappropriate  ;  for  enmity 
implies  individuality ;  whereas,  national  and  party  antipathies 
are  too  diffuse  and  diluted  to  come  within  the  pale  of  personal 
animosity  ;  but  though  you  don't  trouble  that  pretty  little  head 
about  politics,  you  must  know  that  I  have  made  myself  rather 
obnoxious  lately  to  the  Israelites,  by  the  active  part  I  have  taken 
in  '  The  Jewish  Disabilities  Bill ; '  and,  therefore,  I  will  send  my 
own  darling  a  check  for  £50  to-morrow,  and  she  must  get  back 
her  ring  from  this  Jacobs,  and  projnise  me  to  have  no  more  to 
do  with  him,  for  it  is  more  than  probable  that  this  man  is  my 
enemy." 


174  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  You  know  the  Italian  proverb?"  said  Florence,  with  a 
melancholy  smile, '  a  thousand  probabilities  dotiH  make  one  fact;'' 
and  this  Jacobs  appeared  to  me  too  good  to  be  anybody's  ene- 
my ;  but,  of  course,  as  you  wish  it  I  will  not  have  any  further 
communication  with  him,  though  it  grieves  me  to  think  that  I 
shall  not  see  again  one  who  was  so  very  kind  to  me  in  an  emer- 
gency." 

Another  frown  knit  her  husband's  brow,  but  he  concealed  it 
by  bending  forward  to  kiss  and  thank  her  for  this  concession. 
Time  was  when  half  the  assumption  of  kindness  which  he  had 
displayed  at  this  interview,  would  have  winged  her  spirit  to- 
wards the  highest  heaven  ;  but  now  that  poor,  crushed  spirit 
had  so  long  been  a  solitary  wanderer  amid  the  desolate  marshes 
and  quagmires  of  disappointment,  and  had  been  so  often  lace- 
rated against  the  sharp  and  flinty  inequalities  of  that  rugged  and 
sinking  soil,  that  even  the  soft  shadow  cast  by  the  white  wings 
of  the  Angel  of  Hope !  as  it  flitted  for  a  moment  across  her 
heart,  weighed  at  first  too  heavily  upon  her,  and  oppressed  in- 
stead of  cheering  her.  Still,  in  that  brief  transit  it  had  fulfilled 
its  mission  of  mercy  and  of  healing,  for  her  tears,  usually  bitter 
as  the  waters  of  Mara,  now  fell  soft  and  genial,  like  Hermon's 
dew  upon  her  soul,  till  it  was  no  longer  sunk  in  the  depths  of 
despond,  but  floated  buoyantly,  for  some  seconds,  higher  and 
higher  beyond  the  narrow  fretting  confines  of  this  limited  and 
preliminary  existence,  into  w^orlds  of  graduated  perfection  and 
indescribable  grandeur,  such  as  it  is  given  to  minds  of  the 
highest,  that  is,  of  the  purest  order  to  catch  glimpses  of  from 
out  the  loop-holes  of  their  own  immortality ! 

There  sat  united,  yet  widely  separated,  those  two  opposite 
natures — the  one  chastened  and  spiritualised,  till  it  was  made 
almost  "  perfect  through  tribulation ;  "  the  other,  hardened  in 
self-suflBciency  ;  puffed  up  with  worldly  prosperity,  and  "  of  the 
earth,  earthy,"  in  its  every  emanation,  the  whole  being  alone 
vivified  by  the  pale,  cold  beam  of  intellectuality,  which,  when 
not  ruled  by  the  sanctifying  influences  of  a  higher  orb,  creates 


13EHIND    THE    SCENES,  l75 

and  keeps  the  passions  reptiles,  wkicli,  though  called  into  exist- 
ence by  a  ray  from  above,  yet  delight  to  wallow  in,  and  never 
quit  their  native  mire.  Alas !  poor  human  nature  !  when  will 
it  learn  that  vanquished  selfishness  is  the  aegis  of  a  deeper  wis- 
dom and  a  purer  happiness  than  any  behind  which  it  has  yet 
taken  refuge,  in  the  hope  of  subduing  and  of  acquiring ;  for  even 
Omnipotence  does  not  suffice  to  itself ;  else  had  creation  never 
been  the  myriad  marvel  that  i-t  is !  Great,  oh  man !  is  the 
march  of  thy  mind  upon  the  waves  oloutivard  progress ! — won- 
drous !  thy  penetration  into  the  hidden  depths  of  science  !  but 
when !  oh  !  when  will  the  practical  conviction  of  the  Saviour's 
precepts  pass,  like  the  mighty  shadow  of  His  coming  Divinity, 
over  the  militant  Marathon  of  thy  inner  world,  and  smite,  with- 
out a  blow,  the  deadliest  of  all  foes — thine  own  unregenerate 
heart  ?  Then^  and  not  till  th«n,  shall  ye  indeed  ^'  be  as  gods 
knowing  good  from  evil.''  Nothing  else  has — nothing  else  can 
bring  "  peace  on  earth,  good  will  towards  men  ; "  for  then  shall 
each  man  be,  what  in  "  God's  image  "  he  was  first  created,  bav- 
in o-  within  himself  the  type  of  all  things  in  heaven  and  on  earth. 
This  world's  naiTOw  barriers  of  caste,  country,  sect,  though  they 
havef  heretofore  been  of  iron  and  of  adamant,  shall  be  fused  into 
one  harmonious  whole  in  the  New  Jerusalem  of  each  wide- 
opened  soul ;  and  those  petty  ministers  of  paltry  passions,  now 
accredited  by  Self,  thrust  out  to  have  their  place  re-peopled  by 
the  apostles  of  great  Truths.  All  kindreds  and  all  kinds  will 
then  be  there ;  those  of  all  aptitudes,  and  all  instincts,  of  all 
grades,  and  of  all  conditions,  from  the  great  Chief  that  once 
wore  Israel's  mighty  crown,  and  the  genius  that  swayed  the 
wide  realms  of  Babylon,  to  the  poor  herdsman  of  Tekoah,  the 
fisherman  of  Galilee,  the  dark  slave  of  Afric's  burning  soil,  and 
the  stiil  more  wretched  slaves  of  an  oblique  and  spurious  civili- 
zation, all,  all,  will  then  have  met  in  that  blest  Canaan,  promised 
from  the  first,  and  come  at  last  I  of  Christian  sympathy  and 
universal  fellowship  ! 

But  poor  Mr.  Henry  was  not  even  a  professed^  much  less  a 


1*76  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

regenerated  Christian.  The  great  spiritual  battle  of  Armaged- 
don had  still  to  be  fought  out  in  his  heart,  against  that  fell  au- 
tocrat, Intellectual  Supremacy,  and  the  false  prophets  of  scepti- 
cism. Woe  is  me !  how  many  minds,  from  their  wide  arena, 
are  measured  for  this  decisive  conflict  in  which  it  never  takes 
place !  And  yet  there  were  moments  when  even,  on  the  seared 
heart  of  this  bold,  bad  man,  patience  and  long-suffering,  those 
attributes  of  Divine  power,  of  which  his  victim  was  the  delegate, 
smote  the  rock  of  his  better  nature,  and  the  living  waters  of 
compassion  and  remorse  for  a  moment  gushed  forth  ;  but,  alas  ! 
only  for  a  moment;  and  such  a  moment  was  the  present.  Some- 
thing like  a  tear  almost  glistened  in  his  eye,  as  again  encircling 
her  waist,  he  said — 

"  My  poor  Florence,  you  really  do  want  change  from  this 
monotonous  solicitude." 

There  was  a  jar  in  the  word  really,  which  grated  harshly 
on  the  sufferer's  ear;  for  it  sounded  as  if  it  came  only  to  prop 
the  hollow  pretext  for  his  putting  her  still  farther  away  ;  and 
leaving  her  to  buffet  with  life  and  death,  alone,  and  unaided,  as 
best  she  might. 

"  No,  Henry,"  said  she,  gazing  earnestly  into  his  eyes,  with 
that  lever  of  intense  expression,  which  raises  the  densest  weight 
of  hidden  purpose  in  another  heart,  to  the  open  level  of  our 
own ;  "  it  is  a  further  change  that  I  dread ;  had  you  never 
changed,  I  could  have  borne  it  I " 

He  turned  away  to  avoid  the  scrutiny  of  her  eyes ;  but 
ostensibly  to  reach  another  pillow,  which,  placing  at  her  back, 
he  said,  in  a  tone  which  for  that  consummate  art  which 
stereotypes  nature,  David  Garrick,  or  Edmund  Kean  might 
have  envied. 

"  Never  changed !  and  is  it  my  fault,  if  my  own  Florence 
has  made  me  love  her  ten  times  better  now  than  I  did  the  first 
day  I  called  her  mine  ?  " 

Florence  slightly  shook  her  head,  for  she  did  not  like 
to  meet  with  uttered  increduhty  even  this  hollow  semblance  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  lY7 

affection  ;  and  yet  love's  fanaticism  having  long  subsided  under 
coldness  and  neglect,  she  had  not  sufficient  faith  to  evidence 
things  so  perfectly  unseen  as  the  proofs  of  her  husband's  in- 
creased attachment;  their  interview  had  now  arrived  at  one  of 
those  embarrassing  crises,  which  are  wont  to  occur  in  all  tete-d- 
tetes,  between  the  injurer  and  the  injured  ;  the  husband  was 
nervously  anxious  to  terminate  it,  yet  was  awkwardly  perplexed 
how  to  do  so  with  a  good  grace ;  while  the  wife  was  well  con- 
tent to  lull  her  heart  with  even  the  phantom  that  had  been 
■evoked  of  a  long-buried  love,  and  let  it  rest  for  a  moment  on 
the  soft  echo  of  those  gentle  words  ;  so  that  for  a  few  seconds 
neither  of  them  spoke. 

But  Mrs.  Bousefield — who  in  the  establishment  of  Magnolia 
Lodge  always  enacted  towards  Florence  the  same  part  that 
^'  Shock,"  in  the  "Rape  of  the  Lock,"  did  towards  Belinda :  that 
is,  whenever  she  thought  her  mistress  "  slept "  or  did  anything 
•else  too  long — 

"  Leapt  up,  an^  waked  her,  ivith  her  tongue  !  " 

now  entered  with  a  bonnet  in  one  hand,  and  a  victorine  and  a 
cashmere  shawl  dung  over  her  other  arm  ;  while  for  the  deport- 
ment necessar}^  to  suit  this  mise  en  scene.,  she  had  again  recourse 
to  her  reminiscences  of  Saddler's  Wells  :  but  this  time  it  was  in 
the  "  genteel  comedy  line,"  that  she  had  determined  upon 
^''coming  out  strong."  So  putting  on  a  set  smile,  and  throwing 
all  that  bewitching  impertinence  into  her  eyes,  which  chamber- 
maids and  souhrettes,  are  wont  to  hurl  at  their  masters  on  the 
stage ;  but  which  if  resorted  to  off  it,  would  cause  them  very 
soon  to  be  shown  the  outside  of  the  house,  she  said — 

"  ffive  brought  you  your  things  mum,  for  hit's  the  beauti- 
fullest  moonlight  night  has  hever  was ;  hand  I  was  quite  sure 
has  Mr.  Enery  was  come  for  to  take  you  for  a  ride  I "  looking 
all  tho  while  with  defiance  at  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Xonsense,  Barlow,  you  know  I'm  not  able  to  go  out." 
"  Thus   re-assured,  Mr.  Henry  chimed  in  with  "  Perhaps, 
8* 


178  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

love,  Mrs.  Bousejield  is  right,  and  that  a  drive  would  do  you 
good  ;  don't  you  think  you  could  make  an  effort,  and  just  come 
with  me  as  far  as  Antwerp  House  ? " 

"Humph!"  argued  Mrs.  Bousefield,  silently,  within  the 
depths  of  her  own  capacious  store-room  of  a  mind  ;  "  drat !  the 
man,  hif  that  haint  the  second  time  has  he've  called  me  Mrs. 
Bousefield,  since  he've  been  here ;  hand  two  Mrs.  Bousefields 
hin  one  night,  I  know,  haint  no  good  for  nobody  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Florence ;  "  I  could  not  get  as  far  as  the  gate- 
much  less  into  the  carriage." 

"  Wei],  perhaps  in  a  day  or  two,"  rejoined  Mr.  Henry, 
taking  out  his  watch,  one  of  Brequet's  chef-d^oeuvres^  so  small, 
and  so  flat,  that  it  could  have  glided  with  ease  into  the  narrowest 
possible  interstices  of  the  tightest  Russian  uniform.  "  By 
Jove  ! "  added  he  ;  "  it's  a  quarter  past  eight ;  so  I  must  say 
good  bye,  love — now,  take  care  of  yourself,  and  get  better  soon ; " 
and  he  kissed  her  pale  lips,  while  Mrs.  Bousefield  virtuously 
puckered  hers  up,  as  if  they  had  never  been  used  to  such  doings, 
and  by  no  means  liked  being  an  idle  spectator  of  those  sort  of 
proceedings :  however,  she  opened  them  to  remark  as  she 
followed  Mr.  Henry  to  the  hall  door,  to  open  it  for  him — 

"  Has  for  Mrs.  Enry  a  taking  care  hof  herself,  you'll  hexcuse 
me  sir,  but  I  consider  that  quite  out  hof  character,  when  she 
has  a  usban  to  take  care  hof  er,  leastways  as  should  take  care 
hof  er.  Do  you  think  has  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  hever  let 
me  do  a  hindivedgel  thing  for  myself?  no,  he  halways  did  for 
me  as  every  usban  has  is  a  husband,  wishes  to  do  for  their 
wives." 

"A  great  many  of  them,  at  least,  Mrs.  Bousefield,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Henry,  with  an  attempt  at  a  facetious  laugh,  which,  how- 
ever, died  away  almost  like  a  death-rattle  in  his  throat,  as  the 
night  wind  seemed  to  return  a  mocking  echo ;  "  but,"  added  he, 
stopping  for  one  moment  at  the  gate,  "  you  must  try  and  get 
Mrs.  Henry  well,  to  go  abroad,  for  I  know  it  is  the  only  thing 
that  will  do  her  any  good." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  179 

Mrs.  Bousefield's  reply  was  lost  in  air,  for  the  next  instant 
Mr.  Henry  had  sprung  into  the  carriage,  the  servant  had  given 
to  the  coachman  the  word  of  command,  "Antwerp  House!" 
and  the  octagonal  echoes  of  the  high-stepping  horses'  hoofs 
resounded  along  the  green  lane,  and  through  the  depths  of 
Florence's  seared  and  withered  heart. 


SECTION  VI. 

"  Charity  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins." 

"  A  fair  tongue  oft  doth  varnish  over  a  black  heart,  and  it  is  after  this  fashion 
that  some  persons  do  set  their  light  to  shine  before  men." — Sermon  of  the  Rev.  T. 
Roadly,  preached  before  tlie  Lord  Protector. 

There  was  a  great  Emigration  meeting  at  "  The  Crown  and 
Anchor,"  in  the  Strand,  for  the  fLU'therance  of  Mrs.  Chisholm's 
benevolent  labours.  Henry  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  Esq.,  M.  P.  was 
in  the  chair,  but  in  the  ragged,  run-to-seed-looking  whiskers  of 
the  chairman,  the  partially  washed  out  and  slightly  shrunken 
buff  kersey niere  waistcoat,  the  loosely  hanging  blue  surtout,  the 
carelessly  tied  black  neckerchief,  the  blotting-paper-coloured 
trousers,  unstrapped  to  the  clean,  but  lack-lustre  boots,  the 
dark  kid  gloves,  the  one  vulgar-looking  mourning  ring,  modelled 
upon  a  small  square  tea-tray,  wnth  the  words  "  sacred  to  friend- 
ship!''^ inscribed  in  gold  rehef  round  its  black  ground  and 
purchased  for  the  occasion,  that  very  morning  at  a  shop  in  the 
Strand,  a  few  doors  off;  and  the  heavy  warming-pan  of  a  silver 
hunting  watch,  that  had  replaced  the  elegant  little  brequet,  the 
whole  surmounted  by  a  scrupulously  brushed,  but  not  over  new 
beaver,  strangers  would  have  at  once  defined  the  itinerant 
philanthrophist,  and  a  hard-working  M.  P.,  but  his  intimate  as- 
sociates would  scarcely  have  recognized  the  "  exquisite "  Fer- 
rars !  or  the  most  far-gone  young  lady  devcurei-s  of  his  "  delight- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  18l 

fill  novels  !  "  have  suspected  that  this  was  their  pet  Hon.  The 
fact  was,  that  gentleman  was  now  in  his  working  clothes,  and 
as  a  staunch  Free-trader,  and  a  sixty  Howard-power  philanthro- 
pist, he  thought  it  necessary  to  dress  up  to  these  two  roles,  and 
assume  an  air  half-Cobden,  half-Cloutts.  On  this  day,  he  was 
like  "  a  man  to  double  duty  bound,"  for  after  the  emigration 
meeting,  he  bad,  at  this  same  tavern,  to  preside  at  a  Temperance 
meeting.  So  being,  as  we  before  stated,  in  his  working  dress, 
to  work  he  accordingly  went.  After  the  cheers  which  had 
greeted  his  arrival  had  subsided,  he  proceeded  to  address  the 
meeting  in  a  forcible  and  eloquent  manner,  upon  the  blessings 
of  emigration,  beginning  with  a  well-merited  eulogium  upon 
that  real  benefactress  to  her  species,  Mrs.  Chisholm  ;  a  pane- 
gyric which  lost  none  of  its  truth,  or  of  its  justice,  by  coming 
from  lips  through  which  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  were  ac- 
customed to  issue.  After  setting  forth  "  how  absurd  were  the 
prejudices  against  emigration,  nay  more,  how  wicked,  since — 

*A11  countries  that  the  eye  of  heaven  visits, 
Are  to  a  wise  man  homes,  and  happy  havens! ' 

it  was  evidently  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence,  who  as  popu- 
lation increased  from  time  to  time,  opened  unsuspected  portals 
of  this  great  globe  for  their  accommodation,  he  remarked  that 
had  mankind  obstinately  persisted  in  clinging  to  the  one  spot 
which  had  given  them  birth, — instead  of  the  onward  and  all- 
conquering  march  of  civilization, — what  at  the  present  time 
would  be  the  stagnant  and  foetid  state  of  the  world, — physically 
as  well  as  morally,  at  the  advent  of  every  new  blessing — to  the  hu- 
man race,  whether  in  science,  ethics,  or  statistics,  there  was  sure 
to  be  a  crusade  raised  against  it ;  but  thank  heaven,  like  their 
religious  prototypes  against  the  Infidels,  it  was  only  to  make 
Truth  more  resplendently  triumphant  in  the  end.  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  even,  speaking  of  the  so-called  new  world,  terms  it 
'That  great  antiquity,  America,  which  lay  buried  for  a  thou- 
sand years,  and  a  large  part  of  the  earth  is  still  in  the  urn  for 


182  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

US.'  True,  but  it  will  gradually  be  un-urned,  for  the  heritage 
of  future  generations ;  yet,  even  when  the  giant  gates  of  this 
wide  new  world  were  unbarred  and  thrown  invitingly  open,  men 
w^ere  at  first  reluctant  to  leave  their  sterile,  narrow  Father-land, 
because  home!  that  most  cabalistic  of  all  spells,  was  the  name 
by  which  toil  had  been  rendered  dear,  and  penury  made  sacred 
to  them ! — And  yet,  my  fiiends,  what  is  it  that  constitutes 
HOME  ?  that  Holy  of  Holies ! — of  every  Englishman's  social 
creed :  certainly,  not  the  bare  earth  ! — on  which  his  cottage,  or 
his  castle  stands :  not  even  the  fair  view,  teemino-  with  broad 
lands  and  ancestral  trees ;  or  the  still  more  cherished  peasant's 
garden,  bright  with  its  roses  and  its  pansies,  those  fresh  fragrant 
memories  of  Labour's  leisure  hours,  no !  no  !  my  friends,  you 
all  are  aware  and  feel  it  better  than  I  can  tell  it  to  you,  that  it 
is  the  peojpled  heart  which  constitutes  a  home.  The  gentle,  lov- 
ing, winning  wife,  weak  it  may  be  in  her  strength,  but  still 
strong  in  her  weakness ;  since  that  it  is,  which  is  at  once  man's 
impetus  and  his  reward,  the  gradually  expanding  human  blos- 
soms clinging  to  their  parent  stem.  The  common  air  made 
musical  with  childhood's  guileless  mirth.  These  my  friends,  it 
is,  which  in  reality  constitute  a  home  and  with  which,  the  wide 
world  itself  is  but  one  universal  home."  (Tremendous  cheers  !) 
— "  But,"  resumed  the  chairman ;  "  there  is  also  another  argu- 
ment strongly  in  favour  of  emigration ;  it  is  not  only  because 
that  in  these  distant  regions,  and  more  genial  climes,  there  is  no 
Corn  Law  League,  no  Bread  Bluebeards,  to  reap  human  har- 
vest, but  that  because  man,  all  'paragon  of  animals'  though  he 
be,  has  his  appointed  stages  of  germination  and  progression  in 
common  with  the  humblest  grain ; — and  the  little  acorn  of  one 
hemisphere  is,  according  to  the  immutable  laws  of  nature,  des- 
tined to  become  the  stately  oak, — the  Forest  King  of  another. 
There  is  an  anecdote  strikingly  illustrative  of  this  proposition. 
A  venerable  seaman  yet  ahve,  has  remarked  that  when  a  very 
young  midshipman  leaning  one  day  over  the  bulwarks  of  his 
ship  at  Portsmouth,  he  saw  a  small  squadron  pass.     It  was 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  188 

that  which  carried  on  board  the  first  batch  of  convicts  sent  to 
Botany  Bay.  His  captain,  who  was  walking  the  quarter-deck, 
approached,  and  touching*  him  on  the  shoukler  said:  'Mark 
these  vessels  well,  and  remember  them  ;  they  are  going  to  lay 
the  foundation  of  a  great  empire.  Forty  years  ago,  perhaps 
thirty,  the  certainty  of  the  fulfilment  of  this  prophecy  might 
have  appeared  problematical :  but  who  can  doubt  now  that  it 
will  be  fulfilled  to  the  letter,'  and  if  an  empire  deserving  the 
name  of  great,  could  thus  be  founded  by  felons,  how  much 
greater  a  one  may  we  not  hope  to  found  with  men  free  from  all 
reproach,  save  that  of  poverty  ?  For  my  own  part,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  assert  that  had  my  lot  in  life  been  cast  in  a  difierent 
and  what  is  conventionally  called  an  humbler  though  on  that 
account  by  no  means  a  morally  inferior  sphere,  I  should  instant- 
ly, even  as  a  matter  of  ambitious  speculation,  have  gone  out 
myself  and  taken  my  family  (had  Providence  blessed  me  with 
one)  to  Australia.  It  is  true,  that  the  numbers  who  voluntari- 
ly expatriate  themselves  are  daily  increasing ;  but  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  it  is  only  expediency  which  makes  them  yield  to 
the  declared  will  of  Heaven,  when  it  ought  to  be  from  the  de- 
sire of  usefulness ;  not  that  even  usefulness,  though  it  be  culti- 
vated into  a  passion  (as  it  is  with  the  amiable  23atroness  of  this 
great  cause,  Mrs.  Chisholm),  is  to  to  be  constituted  the  end  of 
action,  for  mind,  though  it  be  highly  estimated,  is  not  to  be  un- 
duly exalted  beyond  its  proper  subordinate  sphere.  As  virtue 
must  be  esteemed  for  itself  rather  than  for  the  immunities  at- 
tached to  its  exercise,  therefore  should  every  man  in  emigrating 
think  more  of  the  benefit  he  is  conferring  in  his  generation  and 
upon  future  generations  yet  unborn,  than  of  his  own  individual 
welfare,  or  else  selfishness,  that  universal  principle  of  evil,  will 
be  continually  warring  against  all  projected  good ;  and  their 
re-commenced  lives,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  will  be  passed 
in  an  endless  struggle  between  the  imperative  duties  of  princi- 
ple and  the  equally  imperious  and  more  seductive  appeals  of 
passion ;  this  is  no  novel  and  still  less  no  controvertible  asser- 


184  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tion,  for  do  not  all  the  phenomena  of  the  physical  world  result 
from  a  sustained  counter  agency  ?  In  shaking  hands,  therefore, 
like  a  brother  with  each  member  of  the  great  human  family  that 
is  'outward  bound,'  I  would  yet  say  to  him  with  the  earnestness 
of  a  Pilgrim  Father — 

'"Let  no  man  live  for,  or  suffice  to  himself  alone  !'" 
The  honorable  gentleman  then  sat  down,  amid  thunders  of 
applause,  a  hurricane  of  cheers,  and  a  perfect  snow-storm  of 
white  handkerchiefs  I 

As  soon  as  the  Emigration  Meeting  had  migrated,  and  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  recruited  his  exhausted  energies  with  a 
tumbler  of  sparkling  moselle,  the  benches  were  dusted,  and  the 
room  re-arranged  (that  is,  everything  was  taken  out  of  it)  for 
the  accommodation  of  the  Temperance  Meeting,  the  members 
of  which  now  began  to  pour  in  like  the  element  which  they  de- 
lighted to  honor.  Perhaps  never  had  so  many  fat  people,  male 
and  female,  been  congregated  in  the  same  place,  at  the  same 
time;  which  showed  that  however  they  might  eschew  fluids, 
they  did  not  evince  equal  strength  of  mind  in  resisting  sohds. 
The  chairman,  who  had  puffed  out  his  hair  like  a  ship  in  full 
sail,  for  his  Emigration  Speech,  now  flattened  it  down  as  if  it 
had  been  undergoing  a  course  of  hydropathy  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  under  the  pump,  in  order  to  "  suit  the  action  to  the  word" 
for  his  present  auditory.  Nevertheless  he  commenced  his  ha- 
rangue with  great  spirit,  till  no  doubt  feeling  the  incongruity  of 
anything  like  spirit  at  a  Temperance  Meeting,  he  gradually 
flowed  on 

"In  one  weak  washy  flood  away," 

which  so  calmed  the  nerves  of  one  very  fat  lady,  in  a  blue 
watered  silk,  and  toast-and-water-coloured  bonnet,  that  gradually 
falling  to  leeward  upon  a  stout  gentleman's  shoulder,  she  slept 
as  soundly  as  if  she  had  been  on  a  water-bed  ;  though,  at  the 
same  time,  as  noisily  as  if  she  had  been  to  a  cattle-show,  and 
had  bought  an  infant  pig,  and  was  bringing  him  home  in  her 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  185 

throat.  Now,  it  so  happened,  that  Tim  having  put  up  the  cab- 
riolet, and  finding  himself  a  gentleman  at  large,  for  at  least 
three  good  hours,  had  got  hopelessly  and  unpardonably  drunk ; 
which  being  nuts  to  low  vulgar  natures  like  his,  he  had  gone 
into  the  gallery,  with  his  pockets  filled  with  hazel-nuts,  which 
he  began  cracking,  along  with  sundry  jokes,  at  what  he  called 
the  speecheefying  ;  and  just  as  his  master  was  soaring  high  in 
one  of  his  happiest  similies,  something  about  James  Watt,  the 
origin  of  steam,  and  a  tea-kettle,  whereby  he  clearly  demon- 
strated that  the  tea-kettle  was  the  only  legitimate  medium  by 
which  human  beings  ought  to  get  up  their  steam.  Tim  roared 
out,  hurling  an  awakening  nut-shell  at  the  toast-and-water 
coloured  bonnet — "Turn  out  them  ere  pigs — this  here  is  a 
temperance  meeting ;  and  nobody  aint  allowed  to  go  the  whole 
swine  here." 

The  sleeping  beauty  thus  rudely  awakened,  the  meeting 
suddenly  broke  up  in  great  confusion,  amid  cries  of  "  Turn  him 
out ! " 

While  the  chairman  perceiving  who  the  culprit  was,  cried 
out  with  stentorian  sternness,  "  Tim  ! " 

"  All  right,  guvnor  ! "  hiccupped  that  individual — "  I'll 
keep  ?i  rubbing  on  em  down,  while  you's  a  vatering  on  em ; 
only  I  spose,  as  that  ere  bald-faced  mare  yonder,  vith  the  toas- 
a;i-vater  blinkers,  and  young  pigs,  don't  vant  no  bother  litter." 

As  soon  as  the  crowd  had  dispersed,  and  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  had  given  orders  to  have  his  groom  taken  care  of  by 
being  put  into  the  stable  with  his  horse,  he  told  the  waiter  to 
call  a  Hansom,  and  thinking  he  had  sacrificed  himself  quite 
enough  for  one  morning  to  patriotism  and  philanthropy,  re- 
solved upon  devoting  the  rest  of  the  day  to  politics  and  philan- 
dering:  so  first  returning  home  to  change  his  dress,  he  after- 
wards called  upon  Benaraby,  and  "  the  happy  pair  ! "  went 
together  to  Kensington  Gardens, 


SECTION  YII. 

"  How  long  will  this  people  provoke  me  ?  "—Num.  xiv.  11. 

"  much  I  wis 

To  the  annoyance  of  King  Amasis." 

There  was  a  perfect  emeute  of  carriages  in  Park  Lane,  for  there 
was  a  great  dinner  at  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's ;  Mr.  Benaraby 
was  arranging  his  ambrosial  ringlets  in  the  hall,  where  another 
pei-sonage  was  also  performing  the  same  little  prevenances,  for 
an  infant  imperial,  which  he  was  evidently  educating  with  the 
greatest  care  ;  while  a  phalanx  of  footmen,  and  a  detachment  of 
servants  out  of  livery,  "stood  at  ease,"  on  either  side.  Mr. 
Benaraby  was  the  first  to  complete  his  capillary  arrangements  ; 
and  then  giving  his  mane  a  final  toss,  like  a  Hon  (as  he  was), 
he  raised  his  eye-glass  to  the  hero  of  the  tuft. 

"  Hellow,  old  fellow ! "  cried  the  latter, — "  that  is  coming  it 
rather  too  strong,  to  afiect  not  to  know  me  /" 

" 'Pon- my  soul,  my  dear  Trevyhan,"  rejoined  the  other, 
leisurely  continuing  his  scrutiny,  "  I  really  did  not  know  you  at 
first,  with  that  little  addition  to  your  family;  I  actually  took 
you  for  Younr/-Ckin  (young  chin),  that  tyrannous  Emperor  of 
China,  who  somewhere  about  1722  or  1723,  summarily  put  an 
end  to  religious  disputations  and  innovations  in  the  celestial 
empire,  by  banishing  the  newly-baptised  Pagans,  right  and  left : 
so  that  as  your  own  enemy  (which  so  many  men  are),  you  see 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  ]  87 

in  your  role  of  persecuted  primitive  Christian,  you'd  have  had 
to  send  yourself  to  the  right-about  too  ;  with  nothing  but  your 
disconsolate  dandyism  to  fall  back  upon ;  a  larger  allowance, 
however,  than  most  exiles  can  boast  of." 

"  Come,  come.  Master  Ben,  two  can  play  at  that  game ; 
there  is  a  plentiful  crop  of  oriental  revolutions  just  now  ;  even 
the  Caucasians  are  up  in  arms !  and  want  a  leader,  and  of 
course  they  naturally  look  to  yoic  as  the  coming  man  ;  egad ! 
tkere^s  a  glorious  opening  for  you !  and  after  you  had  eventual- 
ly invaded  and  conquered  England — as  you  a}so  of  coicrse  would 
— think  what  a  devilish  snug  berth  you'd  have  of  it,  with  a  re- 
storation of  close  boroughs,  Caucasian  close  boroughs,  and 
Mosaic- Arab  constituencies  !  and  a  Dean  and  Chapter  at  Mem- 
phis !  But  I  say,  my  dear  fellow,  don't  you  mean  to  reply  to 
that  fiery-tailed  pamphlet  of  Mr.  Jasper  Mount  Athos's,  called 
— "  The  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity,"  in  which  he  proves  you 
to  be  Lucifer,  Anti-Christ,  and  I  believe  Nebuchadnezzar,  rolled 
into  one." 

"No,  no,"  said  Benarab}^  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and 
plunging  both  his  hands  into  the  remotest  depths  of  his  trousers 
pockets;  for  as  the  fixed  purpose  of  his  life  was  to  fill  them,  he 
wisely  endeavoured  to  inure  them  to  habits  of  repletion.  "  No, 
it  is  not  worth  while  ;  for  after  all,  he  has  not  used  me  more 
scurvily  than  he  has  done  the  Deity,  and  if  the  Almighty  don't 
choose  to  resent  it,  neither  shall  I !  " 

Having  thus  modestly  placed  himself  in  juxtaposition  with 
Omnipotence,  the  pair,  accompanied  by  a  laugh  from  Trevylian, 
reached  the  first  ante-room. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Benaraby,  turning  to  the  Groom  of  the 
Chambers,  ''  the  duchess  is  not  down  yet  ?  "         ■ 

"Yes,  Sir,  her  grace  is  in  the  drawing-room." 

"  Anybody  else  come  ?  " 

"  Only  Mr.  and  Lady  Barbara  Farrington,  and  Lord  Ernest 
Clare,  Sir." 

"  Is  it  a  large  party  ?  " 


188  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Covers  are  laid  for  two-and-twenty ;  but  Lord  Redby  dines 
here,  Sir." 

This  was  a  most  satisfactory  hearing  to  Mr.  Benaraby  :  Lord 
Redby  being  the  leader  towards  whom  his  political  vane  had 
last  veered,  and  whose  coming  into  office  be  was  looking  forward 
to,  as  the  great  stepping-stone  of  his  own  fortunes.  The  peer, 
up  to  a  certain  point,  had  responded  sympathetically  to  his 
overtures ;  for  there  is  a  duality  in  all  statesmen,  expediency 
being  the  boundary  line  which  divides  the  honourable,  high- 
minded,  and  nicely  conscientious  gentleman,  from  the  unscru- 
pulous, wary,  coute-qui-coute  politician,  who  is  too  good  a  crafts- 
man to  find  fault  with  even  the  worst  tools  :  yet,  though  Lord 
Redby  duly  appreciated  Mr.  Benaraby's  talents,  he  was  well 
aware  that,  as  Burke  said  of  Charles  Townshend,  Benaraby 
"  conformed  exactly  to  the  temper  of  the  House ;  and  he  seemed 
to  puide  it,  because  he  was  always  sure  to  follow  it^  Lord 
Redby  also  knew,  that  like  this  gi  devant  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  Mr.  Benaraby  was  hkewise  "  a  candidate  for  con- 
tradictory honours;  and  his  great  aim  was  to  make  those 
agree  in  admiration  of  him,  who  never  agreed  in  anything  else." 
*  "^  For  his  capacities  were  all  of  the  ready,  active,  practical, 
bustling,  hard-working  order,  amalgamated  in  the  brazen  mor- 
tar of  unblushing  impudence,  which  is  in  legislative  warfare 
what  solid  squares  are  in  physical  battles.  Lord  Redby  yet 
winced  under  the  total  want  of  principle  of  the  man,  for  he  fore- 
saw in  it  a  two-edged  sword,  which  could  be  quite  as  dexter- 
ously used  AGAINST  as  FOR ;  and  though  any  quality  not  in  it- 
self low,  when  pushed  by  indomitable  courage  and  perseverance 
to  an  extreme,  amounts  almost  to  genius  ;  on  the  other  hand 
even  the  most  exalted  genius  is  easily  dragged  into  the  mire  of 
the  most  contemptible  baseness,  when  it  lacks  the  upholding 
lever  of  moral  rectitude ;  and  Lord  Redby's  own  intelligence 
was  of  'too  high  an  order,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  world  far 
too  extensive  for  him  not  to  be  aware,  that  all  things  in  creation 
move  in  a  circle,  which  is  the  reason  why  events,  passions  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  189 

temptations,  are  constantly  repeating  themselves, —  and  also 
why  consciences  that  are  easily  bought,  are  as  easily  sold,  upon 
each  fresh  opportunity  that  presents  itself  for  their  rising  in 
market  value.  This  Lord  Redby  knew,  and  would  almost  have 
given  his  earldom  not  to  have  been  so  sure  of,  in  the  individual 
instance  of  his  satellite,  Mr.  Isaccher  Benaraby.  However,  it 
is  one  thing  to  feel  the  necessity  of  accelerating  the  steam  of 
one's  own  political  engine,  against  some  rival  parliamentary 
train ;  and  another,  to  despise  and  recoil  from  the  dust,  smoke, 
ashes,  and  dirty  work,  by  which  the  high  pressure  is  achieved ; 
and  so  felt  Lord  Redby,  and  therefore  he  patronised  his  willing 
slave  of  the  lamp  accordingly. 

Upon  the  glad  tidings  that  the  Peer  was  to  form  one  of 
the  party  that  day,  en  attendant  his  forming  a  much  more  im- 
portant and  influential  one  in  another  house,  Mr.  Benaraby 
walked  on  with  a  firmer  and  more  elastic  step,  till  he  came  to 
the  last  preliminary  room,  where  the  Duchess's  page  drew  aside 
the  velvet  portiere  for  him  and  his  companion,  as  Saxby,  the 
Groom  of  the  Chambers,  preceded  and  announced  them. 

Upon  a  divan  at  one  side  of  the  fire-place,  now  filled  by  a 
mirror,  which  being  only  divided  by  the  velvet-covered  mantel- 
piece, appeared  like  one  plate  of  glass  continued  from  the  ceil- 
ing downwards,  sat,  or  rather  flowed,  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat, 
surrounded  by  eider-down  cushions,  of  all  sizes,  of  which  her  am- 
ple, but  at  the  same  time  undulating,  and  strange  to  say,  not  un- 
graceful dimensions  seemed  to  form  a  part.  The  extreme  languor 
of  her  manner  might  have  occasioned  a  strange  contrast  with 
her  I'obust  contour,  had  it  not  harmonized  with  it  after  the 
fashion  of  a  broad,  deep-rolling  river,  whose  surface  is  always 
smoother  when  its  waters  are  too  full  to  allow  of  their  wavelets 
indulging  in  any  buoyant  little  gambols.  Some  women,  were 
they  to  live  to  turn  the  corner  of  a  century,  would  continue  to 
be  coquettes,  even  when  death  was  the  only  male  creature  left 
inclined  to  approach  them  :  Her  Grace  of  Diplomat  was  one 
of  these,  but  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  she  possessed  a 


190  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

wondrous  pair  of  eyes,  which  were  the  arsenal  (as  all  eyes 
should  be)  of  her  soul's  artillery ;  their  softness  was  actually 
overwhelming,  and  seemed  like  the  combined  influences  of  music 
and  perfume,  mingling  with  the  air  of  a  summer's  night,  to  give 
quite  as  much  as  they  took,  by  blending  with  one's  very  being, 
even  while  they  stole  away  the  senses  ;  their  covert  fires  veiled, 
but  not  subdued,  by  the  diamond  tears  that  ever  trembled  in 
them,  till  they  looked  like  two  captured  stars,  floating  in  a  love 
philtre ;  nor  did  the  gentle  voice  discredit  the  imploring  eyes ; 
and  decidedly  if  it  be  true  that 

"Le  style  c'est  rhonime," 
it  is  equally  so  that 

"  La  voix,  c'est  la  femme." 

Stretching  out  her  white  and  sparkling  hand  to  Benaraby, 
she  said  in  her  most  wooing  tones, 

"  Very  kind  of  you  to  come,  ^Ir.  Benaraby.  I  was  afraid 
you'd  be  detained  at  the  House." 

"  Of  all  regalities,"  rejoined  that  personage,  "  I  bow  most 
to  beauty,  therefore,  your  Grace's  invitations  are  commands,  and 
you  may  judge  of  my  emjyressement  to  obey  them,  by  my  com- 
ing so  soon,  for  I  don't  think  it  is  eight  yet.  This  poor,  perse- 
cuted Christian,"  added  he,  laying  his  hand  on  Trevylian's 
shoulder,  and  as  he  did  so  glancing  slyly  at  Lady  Barbara  Far- 
rington,  the  author  of  the  Sobriquet,  "  of  course  keeps  his 
'  cevennes '  hours." 

"  And  better,  too,  than  keeping  people  waiting  seven  hours, 
is  it  not.  Duchess  ? "  drawled  out  the  amiable  dandy. 

"  Quite  true,  Cecil,  but  am  I  not  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  Lady  Larpingham  to-day  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  no,  my  mother  is  not  feeling  very  well,  and 
she  went  to  Twickenham  this  morning.  I  hope  the  Duke  is 
better  to-day  ? " 

"  Always  some  original  remark  !  from  that  profound  young 
man,"  shrugged  Benaraby,  upon  hearing  this  query,  as  he  at 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  191 

one  and  the  same  time  shook  hands  with  Lady  Barbara  Far- 
rington,  and  Lord  Ernest  Clare,  who  both  laughed,  and  the  for- 
mer added — 

"  Hush  !  take  care,  the  Duchess  will  hear  you." 

Probably  she  had  done  so,  from  the  shadow  of  an  inward 
smile  which  played  round  her  mouth  ;  but,  just  at  this  moment, 
the  2^ortiere  was  again  raised,  and  Saxby,  advancing,  announced 
to  the  hostess,  in  that  subdued,  well-bred  tone  which  could  not 
agitate  the  nerves  of  a  fly — 

"The  Duchess  of  Liddesdale,  your  Grace,  and  Monsieur 
Charles  de  la  Tour  de  Nesle." 

This  lady,  though  now  in  her  forty-seventh  year,  was  a 
queen-like,  dignified-looking  woman,  still  handsome  enough, 
like  Diane  de  Poitiers  (whose  portraits  she  greatly  resembled), 
to  have  inspired  a  grande  passion.  She  was  the  mother  of  the 
Duke  of  Liddesdale,  who  had  bought  Glenfern.  Monsieur 
Charles  de  la  Tour  de  Nesle  was  the  scion  of  a  great  French 
family,  and  an  attache  to  the  French  embassy,  and  rejoiced  in 
the  nez  retrousse^  the  quick,  divining  eye,  the  vivid  and  elec- 
tric repartee,  crowned  with  the  never-failing  mot  pour  rire  of  an 
illustrious  uncle  of  his,  who,  for  three  parts  of  a  century,  had 
been  a  celebrity  in  the  annals  of  diplomacy  and  depravity. 

The  greetings  between  the  Duchesses  and  he  were  of  the 
most  aflx^ctionate  order. 

"  Mechant ! "  said  the  hostess,  shaking  her  closed  fan  at 
Monsieur  Charles  de  la  Tour  de  Nesle ;  "  you  never  came  to 
me  on  Friday,  and  I  had  really  a  musical  phenomenon." 

"  Que  voulez  vous,  chere  duchesse  ?  cette  maudite  paper- 
asse,  c'est  a  en  devenir  fou !  Si  je  ne  I'etais  deja,  et  de  la  plus 
charmante  des  femmes,"  concluded  he,  lowering  his  voice,  and 
accompanying  the  latter  part  of  the  speech  with  what  the  Ital- 
ians call  a  "  gola  lunga." 

"Flatteur!"  murmured  the  duchess,  with  her  soft  voice, 
while  her  still  softer  eyes  said  "  Merci,  cher  Charles." 

The  remainder  of  the  guests  now  began  to  arrive  rapidly. 


192  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Among  them  were  Mr.  Lancaster,  with  a  copious  sprinkling 
from  Downing  Street,  and  the  House  of  Commons  bringing  up 
the  rear.  Soon  after,  the  2^ortiere  was  again  raised,  and  Arch- 
deacon and  Miss  Panmuir  were  announced.  Edith  was  looking 
her  very  loveliest,  so  admirably  did  the  rich  simplicity  of  her 
dress  harmonize  with  the  luxurious  repose  of  her  beauty^  She 
wore  a  dress  of  creamy  pearl  white  moire  antique,  the  corsage 
drape,  a  la  Sevigne,  with  tulle  illusion  ;  a  large  knot  of  pearls 
and  emeralds  on  each  shoulder  and  at  the  bosom  ;  also,  a  fourth 
knot  fastening  the  upper  part  of  the  back  of  her  dress.  Round 
her  ivory  throat  was  a  single  row  of  large  orient  pearls,  clasped 
with  a  large  emerald,  encircled  with  brilHants,  and  on  her  fore- 
head, blending  with,  yet  contrasting,  the  rippling  gold  of  her 
plainly  parted  but  magnificent  hair,  was  a  diadem  wreath  of 
lily  of  the  valley,  with  here  and  there  a  small  diamond  dew- 
drop  upon  the  broad  green  leaves  that  peeped  out  from  beneath 
the  little  snowy  trembling  flowers. 

The  Duchess  of  Diplomat  look  Edith's  hand  within  both 
her  own,  and  pressing  it,  said : 

"  You  must,  ma  toute  belle,  let  me  make  you  and  a  very  dear 
friend  of  mine  acquainted.  My  dear  Duchess,  allow  me  to  pre- 
sent you  my  charming  young  friend.  Miss  Panmuir.  Miss 
Panmuir,  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale." 

The  latter,  rising  and  offering  her  hand  kindly  to  Edith, 
said :  (having  the  delicacy,  however,  not  to  mention  Glenfern) 
"It  seems  to  me.  Miss  Panmuir,  that  we  oitght  to  know  each 
other." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  your  Grace  to  afford  me  such  a  plea- 
sure," while,  despite  all  her  efforts  to  restrain  them,  tears  for 
an  instant  filled  her  eyes,  at  the  recollection  of  the  poor  old 
place,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  had  passed  away  from  her 
and  her  family  for  ever.  Her  new  acquaintance  tried  to  make 
room  for  her  on  the  divan  beside  her,  but  it  was  an  impossible 
achievement,  considering  the  overflow  of  the  Duchess  of  Diplo- 
mat ;  which  Mr.  Lancaster,  who  was  seated  at  a  little  distance. 


1 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  193 

perceiving,  rose,  and  advanced  bis  chair  for  Editli,  who  bowed 
her  thanks  to  him,  while  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  said,  with 
a  smile — 

"  I  shall  not  even  thank  you,  Mr.  Lancaster,  seeing  that 
your  place  is  now  so  much  more  worthily  filled  ;  and  being 
quite  convinced  that  you  have  sufficient  gallantry  to  consider 
the  privilege  of  standing  by  Miss  Panmuir,  more  than  a  com- 
pensation for  the  loss  of  your  chair." 

"  One  so  favoured  in  every  way  as  Miss  Panmuir,"  bowed 
Mr.  Lancaster,  "  can  never  require  any  one  to  stand  by  her ; 
but  should  such  an  improbable  event  occur,  it  would  indeed  be 
an  enviable  privilege,  which  I  hope  I  should  duly  know  how  to 
appreciate,  and  to  acquit  myself  of." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Edith,  "  but  you  are  aware  that  the  present 
and  the  future,  are  always  rivals,  in  more  senses  than  one ;  there- 
fore, how  do  you  know  but  you  may  be  engaging,  yet,  to  lead 
a  forlorn  hope." 

"  The  motto  of  all  such,  at  least,  is  a  good  one,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Lancaster,  in  a  lower  and  more  earnest  tone  than  the  occa- 
sion seemed  to  warrant ;  "death  or  victory,  and  I  shall  take  care 
not  to  discard  it." 

At  this  juncture  of  the  conversation,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars 
was  announced. 

"  By  Jove,  you  must  look  out.  Master  Ben,  or  Ferrars  will 
beat  you  hollow,  at  your  own  eruptions,"  said  Trevyhan,  as  the 
latter  entered.  "  You,  both  of  you,  in  your  pyrotechnic  style 
of  dress,  remind  me  strongly  of  Mr.  Isaac  Hawkins  Brown,  the 
hero  whose  volcanic  silk,  and  lava  buttons,  threw  the  Queen  of 
Naples  into  such  convulsions  of  laughter,  as  to  endanger' the 
Neapolitan  succession,  but  egad !  I  never  saw  Ferrars  so  exten- 
sively got  up  as  he  is  to-night.  What's  in  the  wind  now,  I 
wonder  ? " 

"  Saxby  ! "  said  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat,  while  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby Ferrars  was  gliding  towards  her,  with  a  step,  which  for 
stateliness  might  have  suited  the  Grand  Monarque^  and  a  look 
9 


194  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

(as  he  perceived  Mr.  Lancaster  leaning  over  Edith's  chair)  that 
for  savageness  might  have  embellished  with  a  new  ferocity  the 
already  by  no  means  prepossessing  physiognomy  of  the  great 
mogul,  as  represented  on  the  wrappers  of  Anglo-Saxon  playing- 
cards,  "  Saxby  !  T\\  wait  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  Lord  Redby, 
and  then  tell  Marinade  he  may  send  up  dinner." 

"  Happy  Lord  Redby,"  repeated  he,  "  but  a  man  who  can 
keep  such  a  lady  waiting,  does  not  deserve  any  quarter." 

"  Happy  Lord  Redby  I "  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  bo  wing- 
almost  down  to  the  ground,  as  he  stood  before  the  Duchess, 
with  one  of  those  peculiarly  disagreeable  set  smiles  wherein  some 
persons  contrive  at  once  to  shew  all  their  teeth,  and  to  convey 
the  idea  that  the  corners  of  their  mouth  have  rusty  hinges. 

"  Have  a  care,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  for  that  sentence 
might  do  for  every  member  of  your  sex,  whenever  they  chance 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  any  of  ours ; "  laughed  the  Duchess. 
"  A  prop-OS,  is  it  true  that  the  Bouveries  are  separated  ?  and 
whose  fault  is  it  ?  it  always  struck  me  that  he  was  a  horror  !  but 
then  to  be  sure,  I  detest  men  of '  the  wet  blanket  genus.'  " 

"  I  really  know  so  little  of  them,  that  I  can't  say,"  replied 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  his  cold  ashy  eyes  fixed  obliquely  upon 
Edith  all  the  while.  "  But  Benaraby,"  added  he,  turning  for  a 
mo;iient  to  that  individual,  "  you  know  them  intimately,  come 
and  report  the  case  to  the  Duchess." 

"  Know  who  ?  report  what  case  ?  there  are  so  many  cases 
about  town,  progressing  tant  soit  bieu,  tant  soit  mal,  that  if  you 
want  them  reported  you  must  get  Cupid  to  institute  a  special 
court  of  amatory  jurisdiction,  my  dear  Ferrars,"  said  he,  as  quit- 
ting Lady  Barbara  Farrington's  side,  he  Avalked  over  to  the 
hostess,  and  leant  his  arm  upon  the  mantelpiece. 

♦'  I  want  to  hear  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bouverie,"  said  the 
Duchess  ;  "  what  is  the  cause  of  their  separation  ?  Why  on 
earth  can't  married  people  in  reality  live  apart  quietly  and  re- 
spectably without  the  esclandre  of  a  public  separation  ?  but  as 
usual  in  such  cases,  some  abuse  her,  and  others  say  the  fault  i^ 
all  his  ;  which  is  it  ? " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  195 

"  I  warn  you,  my  dear  Duchess,"  said  Lady  Barbara  Far- 
ringtou,  "  that  Mr.  Benaraby  is  a  particular  friend  of  Mrs. 
Bouvei'ie's." 

"  No,  no,"  rejoined  Benaraby,  with  one  of  his  favourite 
shrugs,  his  great  mind  disclaiming  the  imputed  weakness  of 
friendship  even  for  one  of  the  ^yeaker  sex.  "  No,  the  cause  of 
the  rupture  is  a  very  natural  one,  for  though  extremes  are  said 
to  meet,  they  are,  in  my  opinion,  much  more  prone  to  part : 
and  the  fact  is,  Bouverie  is  a  heavy,  a  very  heavy  body  ;  and 
perhaps  Mrs.  Bouverie  is  what  the  profane  vulgar  might  call 
a  light  body." 

"  What  Benaraby  means,"  interposed  Mr.  Caesar  Coaking- 
ton,  who  had  his  own  peculiar  reasons  for  not  liking  to  hear 
Mrs.  Bouverie's  reputation  despatched  at  one  fell  swoop  of  his 
friend's  unscrupulous  invective — "  at  least  what  I  suppose  he 
means  is,  that  a  heavy  or  opaque  body,  coming  in  contact  with 
a  luminous  one,  is  apt,  in  tlie  matrimonial  hemisphere,  as  well 
as  in  its  antipodes,  the  celestial  one,  to  occasion  a  conjugal 
eclipse." 

"  By  Ixion  ! "  exclaimed  Benaraby,  levelling  his  glass  at  his 
legal  friend,  "  that  fellow  is  so  accustomed  to  a  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses, and  to  badgering  them  all,  that  we  had  better  let  judg- 
ment go  by  default." 

"  In  default  of  judgment  I  think  you  had,"  retorted  Coak- 
ington. 

"  I  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  somewhat  a  proiws 
de  botte,  "  if  since  the  world  began,  such  a  thing  as  a  really 
happy  marriage  was  ever  known." 

"  There  might  have  been,  when  the  world  and  the  institu- 
tion were  both  young,"  said  a  Mr.  Fuddlefudge,  a  lean,  damp, 
lookiiig,  sharp-featured  individual,  in  spectacles,  who  wrote  moral 
essays,  of  a  highly  immoral  tendency,  for  a  weekly  paper,  "  but 
the  institution  is  now  thoroughly  worn  out,  and  as  to  our  social 
system,  what  the  misletoe    is  to  the  oak — a  most  unsightly 


196  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  But  you  forgot  to  add,"  said  Caesar  Coakiugton,  "  still  use- 
ful from  the  fact  of  a  little  ortliodox  love-making  being  permit- 
ted under  its  auspices  at  Christmas." 

"  Judging  from  Mr.  Fuddlefudge's  last  essay  in  the  Denoun- 
cer "  said  Mr.  Farrington,  a  mild,  gentlemanlike-looking  man, 
who  was  himself  an  unexceptionable  husband,  "  one  has  every 
reason  to  suppose,  that  he  upholds  and  prefers  unorthodox  love- 
making  under  the  rose.''^ 

"  Hear  !  hear  ! "  laughed  Coakingrton. 

"  Really,"  said  Benaraby  solemnly  ;  for  he  began  to  weary 
of  having  been  a  whole  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  room  without 
having  created  a  sensation,  or  excited  universal  attention.  "  I 
cannot  stand  by  and  hear  that  most  holy  and  sacred  of  all 
things — marriage,  vituperated  ;  for  as  our  friend  Archdeacon 
Panmuir  here,  I  am  sure  will  tell  you,  it  is  the  onbj  infallible 
means  the  clergy  possess  of  really  bringing  sinners  to  repen- 
tance ! " 

"  And  yet,  judging  from  myself,"  said  Mr.  Farrington,  looking 
affectionately  at  his  wife, — (the  usual  criterion,  by  the  bye,  from 
which  our  judgments  are  deduced) — "  some  sinners  are  so  harden- 
ed, that  even  under  that  awful  dispensation,  they  never  repent." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Fuddlefudge,  fiatically,  "  the  vows  which 
the  ceremony  of  marriage  exacts  are  contrary  to  nature,  for  who 
on  earth  can,  with  any  degreee  of  truth,  promise  to  love  for 
ever  ? — it  is  perfectly  incompatible  with  the  innate  inconstancy 
of  man." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  cried  Benaraby,  "  speak  for  yourself,  but 
don't  inculpate  us  all ;  indulge  in,  descant  on,  argue  upon,  ana- 
lyse, and  proclaim  as  many  of  your  own  escapades  as  you  please. 
Not  that  to  judge  from  your  appearance — but  then  appearances 
are  proverbially  deceptive — one  would  imagine  you  to  be  afflicted 
with  any  of  the  vacillating  voltijements^  and  flutterings  of  a 
Ballet  Cupid  ;  but  be  that  as  it  may,  respect,  I  beseech  you,  the 
fixed  passions  and  irrevocable  flirtations  of  others.  I  myself,  for 
one,  am  a  martyr  to  constancy,  and  look  at  that  thirty  years' 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  19*7 

liaison  of  Lady  Fan  court  and  Lord  Downington  !  Germ  any- 
had  its  Schiller  to  immortalize  a  thirty  years'  war  !  cannot  Eng- 
land, or  at  least  St.  James's,  which  is  the  nucleus  of  England, 
produce  a  genius  equal  to  perpetuating  this  thirty  years'  flirta- 
tion ? " 

"  Not,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  unless  he  could  at  the  same  time 
change  Downington  into  the  Wandering  Jew  ;  for  thirty  years 
is  a  sufficent  spell,  in  all  conscience,"  said  Trevylian. 

"  The  most  remarkable  part  of  that  aflair,"  put  in  Caesar 
Coakington,  "  is  that  in  the  whole  of  those  thirty  years,  they 
have  never  had  a  single  tiff." 

"  Cest  clair  ! ''''  shrugged  Monsieur  Charles,  de  la  Tour  de 
Nesle  ;  '*  for,  au  fond,  they  have  always  been  perfectly  indif- 
ferent to  each  other !  " 

"  Then  you  think  that  mutual  indifference  is  the  only  guar- 
antee for  the  duration  of  a  grande  passion?''''  asked  Benaraby, 
with  a  look  of  intense  inquiry,  as  if  he  was  really  anxiously  seek- 
ing for  information. 

"  Pas  de  doute^l''  again  shrugged  the  attache. 

"  Ah !  I  see,"  laughed  Csesar  Coakington  ;  "  this  is  the  ho- 
moeopathic improvement  upon  Mrs.  Malaprop's  stronger  matri- 
monial dose,  of  beginning  with  a  httle  aversion." 

"  The  only  rational  aversion  is  to  steer  clear  of  it  altogether," 
croaked  Fuddlefudge.  "  Women  are  badly  brought  up,  there 
is  not  sufficient  Orientahsm  in  their  training;  they  have  an  idea 
that  they  have  a  right  to  their  husbands'  aflfections,*  forgetting 
that  what  a  man  may  bear  with,  and  even  like  in  a  young  and 
pretty  woman,  becomes  insupportable  in  the  prosings  of  a  mid- 
dle-aged lady." 

"  You  appear,  in  your  code  matrimonial,  or  rather  anti-ma- 
trimonial," said  Mr.  Lancaster,  "  quite  to  forget  to  make  any 
provision  for  the  defence  of  the  poor  lady  being  bored  by  the 
prosings,  or  it  may  be  the  somethings  worse,  of  a  middle-aged 

*  This  and  what  follows  is  word  for  word  the  printed  and  publislied 
sentiments  of  a  modern  reviewer. 


198  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

gentleman,  or  liis  fancying  that  he  has  a  right  to  her  affections, 
and  exclusive  devotion  !  " 

"  Well  hit !  Lancaster,"  cried  Mr.  Farrington  ;  while  Fud- 
dlefudge  merely  opened  wide  his  lack-lustre  eyes,  and  cast  a 
dense  yellowish  fungus  sort  of  look  of  unaftected  surprise  at  him 
over  his  spectacles. 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  who  had  not  only  reciprocated  the 
reviewer's  sentiments  touching  the  brutalization  of  women,  but 
who  had  written  a  sort  of  wdiipper-in  confirmatory  article  to 
them  at  the  time,  now  took  especial  care  to  eschew  the  subject ; 
and  getting  gradually  nearer  to  Edith,  upon  whom  his  glaring 
looks  of  resentment,  at  Mr.  Lancaster's  proximity  to  her  had  not 
only  been  thrown  away,  but  had  caused  her  cheek  to  suffuse 
with  a  deep  but  transient  blush  of  indignation,  approached  her 
with  his  most  deferential  manner,  and  said  in  his  softest  voice — 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  allow  myself  the  happiness 
of  coming  so  near  to  Miss  Panmuir,  for  I  have  lately  been  much 
by  the  couch  of  a  poor  young  friend,  who  is  dying  of  consump- 
tion, and  some  persons  consider  that  fatal  malady  as  infectious, 
though  I  cannot  say  that  I  do." 

But  instead  of  recoiling  from  him,  this  rather  (as  he  foresaw 
it  would)  drew  Edith  towards  him  ;  and  there  was  such  an  ex- 
pression of  tenderness  and  genuine  sympathy  in  her  eyes,  as 
she  condoled  with  him  upon  the  illness  of  his  friend,  that  if  he 
could  have  set  it  all  down,  or  even  half  of  it,  to  his  own  account, 
he  might  have  almost  brooked  the  presence  of  Mr.  Lancaster ; 
who,  albeit,  perfectly  unconscious  of  the  bitter  hatred  he  had 
inspired,  said  in  the  kindest  manner — 

"There  has  been  a  new  discovery  for  the  cure  of  consump- 
tion :  inhaling  the  fumes  of  a  sugar  manufactory  is  found  to  do 
wonders  for  the  lungs ;  and  an  American  physician.  Dr.  Cart- 
wright,  has  turned  his  whole  attention  towards  obtaining  a  con- 
centrated essence  of  it,  which  is  said  to  be  perfectly  miraculous 
in  all  pulmonary  complaints." 

"  Oh,  indeed  ! " — with  a  stiff  and  constrained  bow,  and  an 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  199 

almost  fiendish  expression  of  face — was  the  only  reply  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars  vouchsafed  to  this  kind  suggestion.  Edith  per- 
ceived it,  and  turned  with  undisguised  disgust  from  him  to  Mr. 
Lancaster;  complimenting  the  latter  a  little  more,  than  but  for 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  insulting  manner  she  otherwise  would 
have  done,  about  his  general  and  unostentatious  infoi-mation 
upon  all  subjects.  Had  she  compelled  him  to  swallow  the  con- 
tents of  a  chalice  filled  with  wormwood,  the  clever  man  could 
scarcely  have  found  the  potion  more  bitter,  than  this  proceeding 
of  hers;  and  so  fearfully  was  his  countenance  changed  by  the 
storm  of  conflicting  passions  raging  within  him  at  that  moment, 
that  there  was  something  almost  appalling  in  his  appearance. 

"  Why,  Ferrars  !  what's  the  matter  ?  I  don't  know  on  earth 
what  you  look  like ! "  said  Trevylian,  coming  up  to  him. 

The  other,  feeling  the  ridicule  of  anything  approaching  to  a 
scene  in  such  a  place,  made  a  great  efibrt  to  rally,  and  replied 
with  one  of  his  usual  measured  and  sardonic  smiles — 

"  Look  like  !  Why,  I  should  think  like  Borak,  the  ass  that 
conveyed  Mahomet  to  the  seventh  heaven  ! " 

Edith  heard  the  words,  and  understood  their  meaning,  and 
therefore  studiously  kept  her  face  turned  from  him;  calling  Mr. 
Lancaster's  attention  to  the  beautiful  little  Bohemian  censer 
lamps  in  each  corner  of  the  room,  with  their  chains  of  growing 
flowers  and  draperies  of  the  same  flowing  over  them,  as  if  flying 
from  the  ardent  gaze  of  the  bright  light  within. 

'•  They  are  very  pretty,"  said  he,  "  one  might,  without  be- 
ing a  hyperborean,  almost  fancy  oneself  in  the  Temple  of  the 
Dorian  sun-god,  with  all  his  altars  laden  with  fresh  floral  offer- 
ings." 

Here  Lord  Redby  was  announced,  and  soon  after  him,  "  Din- 
ner." 

Whereupon  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  folded  his  arms  and 
ground  his  teeth  ;  while  Mr.  Lancaster  offered  his  arm  to  Edith, 
which  she  accepted,  his  rival  having,  like  most  persons  in  the 
sulks,  punished  no  one  but  himself. 


SECTION  VIII. 

"  I  have  loved  thee,  with  an  everlasting  love."— Jen  xxx.  S. 

"  Sits  up  till  midnight  with  his  host, 
Talks  politics,  and  gives  the  toast ; 
Xnows  every  prince  in  Europe's  face, 
Flies  like  a  squib  from  place  to  place. 
And  travels  not,  but  runs  a  race." 

X>ean  Swiff  a  "  MordantoJ" 

"  Praetors,  proconsuls  to  their  provinces. 
Hasting  or  on  return,  in  robes  of  state, 
Lictors  and  rods,  the  ensigns  of  their  power, 
Kegions  and  cohorts,  turms  of  horse,  and  wings, 
Or  embassies  from  regions  far  remote." 

Milton. 

Politicians  are  like  lovers,  only  with  the  love  left  out — inas- 
much as  that  they  jBnd  out  a  way  where  others  would  not  even 
perceive  an  opening ;  and  Lord  Redby — who  was  evidently  in 
high  spirits — contrived,  as  he  passed  Benaraby  on  his  way,  to 
take  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat  down  to  dinner,  to  say  to  him 
with  no  more  expression  in  his  face  than  if  he  had  been  making 
the  obligato  inquiries  after  that  gentleman's  health — 

"  Mr.  Benaraby,  I  shall  be  glad  to  speak  with  you  to-night ; 
no  matter  how  late ;  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  come  to 
my  house." 

Benaraby  merely  bowed  his  assent,  as  the  peer  passed  on, 
though  he  felt  much  more  inclined  to  bound  with  delight,  for 
now  he  was  convinced  that  the  powerful  idol  of  his  life  long 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  201 

dream,  unlike  that  of  Xebuchadnezzar's,  would  no  longer  escape 
hira,  but  was  about  to  have,  and  what  was  still  better,  io  give 
him,  "  a  local  habitation,  and  a  name  !  "  and  this  he  wanted  no 
second  Daniel  to  discover  for  him. 

"There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of"  <:/m?ier5  as  there  is  in 
those  of  men :  and  this  of  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's  happened 
to  be  a  singularly  successful  one,  for  nearly  everybody  seemed 
to  be  happy  in  their  own  way. 

Mr.  Benaraby  detonated  into  a  fine  strain  of  hyperbolical 
orientalism  about  the  luxuriance  of  the  fruits  and  flowers  on  the 
table  ;  while  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  on  the  opposite  side,  sple- 
netically  exploded  upon  the'barbarism  of  this  Russian  custom  of 
exciting  the  olfactory  nerves  with  such  suave  and  entrancing 
odours,  which  he  averred  to  be  highly  detnmental  to  the  diges- 
tive organs  during  dinner.  And  so  it  is  that  all  men  go  through 
the  world,  either  with  a  smoked  glass  in  their  "mind's  eye," 
which  causes  them  to  see  an  eclipse  in  the  sun  itself,  like  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrai-s;  or  with  a  golden-tinted  Claude  medium, 
like  Mr.  Benaraby,  which  turas  even  the  murkiest  twilight  into 
sunshine,  and  thus  makes  them  ever  discover  bright  prospects 
"  looming  in  the  future ; "  and,  veril}^,  this  latter  is  the  wisest 
folly  of  the  two. 

"  Pray,"  said  Lady  Barbara  Farrington  to  that  gentleman, 
whom  she  sat  next — "  have  you  seen  Lady  Mabel  Maiden  since 
Mr.  Maiden's  death  ?     Does  she  receive  yet  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  I  went  there  on  Sunday.  I  was  anxious,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  philosophical  research,  to  see  how  she  bore  the  loss  of 
such  a  bore.  She  has  a  great  mind,  that  woman,  for  she  al- 
ways seems  to  act  on  the  adversus  major,  par  secundus  system ; 
and  therefore  she  did  not  appear  indecorously  buoyant,  although 
she  looked  hugely  handsome  in  her  weeds  ;  but  then,  to  be  sure, 
some  people  take  both  marriage  and  the  small-pox  so  favoura- 
bly, that  neither  leave  the  slightest  traces  of  disfigurement,  and 
when  in  the  former  epidemic  the  virus,  alias  the  husband  or  the 
wife,  (lies  away  quickly,  the  malady,  fearful  as  it  is,  rather  em- 


202  BEHIND    THE    SCENES 

bellishes  than  otherwise ;  but  Lady  Mabel,  as  she  married  for 
the  golden  eggs,  has  been,  as  Carlo  Dials  wonld  say,  particu- 
larly fortunate  in  cooJcing  her  goose  so  soon  ;  though  two  yeai-s 
of  Maiden  must  have  been  the  very  quintessence — the  perfect 
prussic  acid  of  boredom  ! — quite  equivalent  to  a  twenty  or  thirty 
years'  dose  of  ordinary  bore,  in  its  usually  diluted  form." 

"  I  suppose,"  laughed  Lady  Barbara, "  that  her  stepson.  Mai- 
den Jils^  is  not  au  desespoir  at  coming  into  possession  of  his 
father's  coffers  ? " 

"  Now  it  so  happened,  that  the  present  representative  of  the 
Maidens,  from  his  great  influence  (which  in  England  always 
means  his  great  wealth),  was  to  be  duly  wooed  into  the  Redby 
phalanx ;  consequently,  Mr.  Benaraby^s  cue  was  to  deal  with 
him  as  tenderly,  and  to  vnenager  this  young  gentleman's  Tom- 
Noddyism  as  gingerly  as  an  elephant  bows  his  trunk  to  exalt  and 
dandle,  with  colossal  friendliness,  some  poor  little  Lilliputian 
puppy-dog,  whom  the  keeper  has  obtruded  on  his  august  at- 
tention for  public  and  popular  purposes,  therefore  he  replied  io 
this  query : — 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  Lady  Barbara,  T  think  he  feels  his  father's 
death  very  much  ;  but  then,  you  know,  the  Anglo-Saxon  tarifiy 
conventionalism  is  everything  in  England,  and  Englishmen — 
aye,  and  for  that  matter.  Englishwomen,  too — are  as  much 
ashamed  of  being  detected  in  any  outward  and  visible  signs  of 
feeling  as  they  would  be  at  being  caught  in  the  act  of  petty  lar- 
ceny, and  invariably  do  as  much  to  disown  '  the  soft  impeach- 
ment '  as  the  virgin  queen  did  to  refute  the  Due  D''Anjou's  ac- 
cusation of  her  having  the  evil  in  her  ankles,  by  dancing  herself 
nearly  to  death  at  the  Marquis  of  Northampton's  wedding — all 
Sunday,  though  it  was.  So  much  for  her  Protestantism  I  when 
her  vanity  was  hit  on  the  raw." 

And  here  Mr.  Benaraby  launched  oft'  into  a  fine  philosophi- 
cal inundation  upon  the  '  manners  and  customs  of  the  English," 
which  showed  him  to  be 

"Profound!}^  sl^illed  in  analj^tic." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENEg.  203 

It  being  a  favourite  "  short  turn  "  of  his  to  interlard  his  frivoli- 
ties with  maximic  gems  of  thought — doubtless  upon  the  same 
principle  that  Alexander  the  Great,  in  his  Indian  campaign, 
caused  costly  suits  of  armour,  of  gigantic  dimensions,  to  be 
buried  in  the  sands,  so  that,  upon  being  excavated  by  those  who 
came  after,  he  and  his  Macedonians  might  pass  for  men  of  gigan- 
tic stature. 

Lord  Redby,  who  sat  opposite  to  him,  his  eyes  upon  his 
plate,  and  his  whole  attention  apparently  devoted  to  a  poulet  d 
la  ravigote^  kept  his  ears  iixed  upon  his  ministerial  Mephisto- 
philes ;  of  whose  deep,  mellow,  perfectly  modulated  voice  he 
did  not  lose  a  single  tone ;  and  of  the  electric  fluid  of  whose 
countenance  he,  through  the  same  medium,  noted  every  varia- 
tion, as  it  alternated 

"  From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe." 

And  he  thought  as  he  did  so,  "  If  that  fellow,  with  his  'puissance 
du  regard,  his  wonderful  high-pressure  powers  of  declamation, 
and  his  sublimated  hypermetric  impudem^e  !  can  lure  on  into  pro- 
selytism  by  his  verbal  Ignus  fatui,  that  really  clever  woman, 
Lady  Barbara  Farrington,  what  a  dance  he  will  lead  the  masses  ; 
and,  still  more,  them  asses  in  the  House  of  Commons  ;  and  so 
pleased  was  he  with  the  thought  that  he  held  up  his  glass,  and 
sinking  the  mister,  in  his  determination  to  raise  the  7nan,  said 
across  the  table — "  Benaraby,  a  glass  of  champagne  with  you." 

"  ^t  tu  quoque  Brute  ! "  said  Trevylian,  who  sat  within 
one  of  Lord  Redby,  for  he  was  a  Whig  renfonce  by  descent,  by 
indolence,  and  by  inclination.  •'  Has  your  lordship,  then,  no 
mercy  ;  for  poor  Benaraby  is  already  pledged  to  death  by  his 
constituents  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Benaraby,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat,  trying  to 
dart  a  look  at  him  through  the  interstices  of  the  plateau  ;  for 
whenever  any  political  "  Hamlet "  was  enacted  at  her  house  she 
always  played  the  Ghost,  and  stood  between  the  dramatis  per- 
sonoe,  at  the  exact  and  critical  moment. 


^04  BEHIND    THE    SCENESs 

"  Mr.  Benaraby,  I  have  a  crow  to  pluck  with  yon,  for  you 
promised  to  give  me  the  original  score  of  Prince  Joseph  Ponia- 
towski's  opera  of  '  Malek  Adhel,'  and  you  never  did  so." 

"  Injustice  ! — thy  name  is  woman  !  "  exclaimed  Benaraby. 
"  Can  your  grace  command,  and  /  not  obey  ?  I  left  it  some 
four  days  ago,  with  what  Mr.  Thomas  Carlyle,  that  great  Gram- 
pian Germanic  growler,  would  call  '  that  fine  specimen  of 
opaque  flunkeyism  grown  truculent,  your  porter.'  " 

"That's  a  truculence  that  must  be  seen  to  and  tamed," 
laughed  the  Duchess. 

"  It  was  doubtless  for  that  laudable  purpose,"  rejoined  Be- 
naraby, "  that  he  kept  the  score  ;  for  '  music,'  we  know,  '  hath 
power  to  soothe  the  savage  breast.'  I  thought  from  the  tran- 
sient glimpse  I  caught  of  him  on  my  arrival,  that  he  looked 
subdued  to-day  ;  in  short,  that  there  was  lesss  of  the  flunkey 
and  more  of  the  finatico  about  him  ;  but  ere  I  depart  to-night, 
I'll  argue  the  point  of  his  delinquency  with  him,  syllogistically, 
Socratically,  and  Pythagorically,  till  I  convince  him  that  his 
conduct  has  been  base  in  the  extreme,  and  that  though  thor- 
ough-bass is  the  requisite  foundation  for  a  musician,  it  is  the 
worst  of  all  possible  ingredients  in  porter — whether  that  porter 
be  stout  in  a  bottle,  or  double  stout  in  a  chair." 

While  Mr.  Benaraby  was  thus  rigmaroling  in  his  usual  fine- 
flowing,  grandiloquent,  semi-hieroglyphical,  semi-hyperbolical 
style,  his  friend  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was  in  the  contrary  ex- 
treme— in  a  state  of  physical  stagnation,  and  most  mortifying 
and  unusual  anti-showoffativeness.  N"ot  at  all  relishing  the 
goods — or  rather  bads — with  which  the  gods  had  provided 
him  in  the  shape  of  an  antiquated — nay,  an  almost  fossilised 
specimen  of  the  vestal  genus,  in  the  person  of  a  Miss  De  la 
Zouche,  a  qi  devant  maid  of  honour  to  Queen  Charlotte. 

She  was  in  every  respect  a  curious  sample  of  a  now  extinct 
race.  Some  old  ladies,  themselves  perfect  oral  traditions,  who 
had  known  her  in  her  palmy  days— when  Bath  was  Bath,  and 
the  spirit  of  Beau  Nash  seemed  still  to  flirt  every  fan,  and  to 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  205 

fan  every  flirt — declared  she  was  a  perfect  enamel.  If  so,  it 
was  most  assuredly  one  of  Bones — for  she  was  all  bones — bones, 
too,  which  time  had  not  bleached,  but  which  looked  red  and 
raw ;  and  no  wonder,  for  they  were  not  veiled  by  the  slightest 
segment  of  flesh,  to  protect  them  against  all  those  insubordinate 
atmospheric  changes  in  which  our  charming  chmate  abounds. 
Rattling  over  the  ruts  of  her  neck,  and  occasionally  rolling  into 
its  deep  ravines,  were  two  rows  of  fine  pear-shaped  pearls,  fast- 
ened with  a  large  diamond  solitaire^  surrounded  by  sapphires, 
and  a  sort  of  black  velvet  hatchment  under  it,  for  the  better  dis- 
play of  its  brilliancy,  by  the  force  of  contrast.  Her  head  shook 
with  that  tremulous  motion  which  is  so  graceful  in  those  wire- 
supported  flowers — that  Natier  mounts,  but  not  equally  so  in 
human  caputs  ; — and  upon  it  rose  high  and  majestically  a  sort 
of  model  of  the  Tower  of  Babel,  in  white  and  cherry-coloured 
gauze,  supported  by  innumerable  jewelled-headed  corking  pins. 
Indeed,  with  such  a  profusion  of  precious  stones  was  she  tesse- 
lated,  that, — being  guilty  of  the  only  crime  for  which  English 
society  has  no  toleration,  namely,  poverty — the  ill-natured, 
who  of  course  consisted  of  her  particular  friends,  were  wont  to 
say  of  her  (as  Madame  de  Sevigne  did  of  the  two  Manciui) 
that  she  had  ^'^ force  pierreries,  et  ires  peu  de  linge  ;  "  not  so 
much  in  the  latter  instance  in  allusion  to  her  nude  drapery,  as 
to  her  literal  deficit  of  those  garments  which  take  precedence  in 
every  toilet. 

What  considerably  enhanced  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  un- 
comfortable JDosition  next  Miss  De  la  Zouche  was,  that  she  did 
not  seem  to  have  the  most  purblind  glimmering  of  his  celebrity 
in  a  literary  point  of  view.  She  knew,  indeed,  that  he  was  an 
author,  but  she  seemed  totally  to  ignore  that  he  was  what  is  far 
from  being  synonymous  also,  a  personnage  ;  on  the  contrary, 
having  understood  that  he  had  appeared  in  print,  and  was  about 
to  do  so  again,  she  thought  his  literary  system  might  want  re- 
gulating, and  therefore  she  continued  during  dinner  to  pound 
for  him  in  the  brazen  mortar  of  her  reminiscences,  strong  tonics 


206  BEHIND   THE    SCENES. 

of  Dr.  Johnson,  and  to  dilute  emollients  of  Miss  Biirney,  with 
conserves  of  the  same,  as  Madame  D'Arblay  ;  till  his  lacerated 
vanity  almost  became  rabid ; — ^and  had  he  not  bridled  it  with 
the  strong  muzzle  of  contempt,  he  would  infallibly  have  ended 
by  demolishing  the  Tower  of  Babel,  or  by  tearing  off  the 
splendid  pearls  that  mocked  the  skeleton  throat  beside  him, 
and  flinging  them  amidst  the  swinish  multitude  around.  But 
the  culminating  billet  of  his  martyrdom  was  seeing  Edith  oppo- 
site, radiant  in  beauty,  with  a  halo  of  happiness  suffusing  her 
whole  countenance,  as  she  listened  with  the  most  profound  at- 
tention to  Mr.  Lancaster's  conversation  ;  who,  independent  of 
his  great  personal  beauty,  was  gradually  but  rapidly  beg-inning 
to  interest  her  heart,  far  more  than  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had 
ever  interested  her  imagination.  Even  now  the  pyre  was  not 
sufficiently  high,  for  Miss  De  la  Zouche,  with  that  singular  pro- 
ficiency in  the  mal  apropos,  for  which  most  old  ladies  are  so 
celebrated,  all  in  sending  a  large  black  grape  out  of  some  Ma- 
raschino jelly  that  she  was  eating,  hopping  like  a  spent  cannon 
ball  into  the  most  vulnerable,  alias  the  most  visible  part  of  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars'  shirt  frills.  She,  to  make  the  wound  more 
mortal,  observed — 

"  What  a  very  charming  young  man  Mr.  Lancaster  is  ! — » 
so  clever,  so  accomplished,  models  so  beautifully,  sings  so  charm- 
ingly, and  writes,  I  hear,  exquisite  poetry-— in  short,  he  is  quite 
the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's  pet  lion  this  season  ! " 

"Ah  !"  said  her  companion,  with  one  of  his  sardonic  grins, 
and  showing  all  his  long  and  very  carnivorous  teeth,  as  he  glared 
across  the  table  in  fixed  audacity  at  Mr.  Lancaster  ;  "  and  near- 
ly the  same  name,  too,  as  Caracalla's  pet  beast ;  for  his  was 
called  Acinax  ;  and  judging  from  appearances,  I  should  say  the 
Duchess's  favourite  ought  to  be  called  Asinine  ! '' 

The  hostess,  who,  as  w^ell  as  all  who  were  at  that  immediate 
end  of  the  table,  overheard  this  gross  and  unprovoked ly  inso- 
lent speech,  trembling  lest  the  object  of  it  should  do  so  likewise, 
said  to  him  across  the  table,  as  she  caught  a  fragment  of  what 
he  was  saying  to  Edith, — 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  207 

"  What !  defending  Nero  and  Caligula,  Mr.  Lancaster  ?  I 
know  you  to  be  charity  itself  in  all  your  judgments ;  but  I 
must  say,  bestowing  it  upon  two  such  monsters  is  literary  charity 
thrown  away." 

"  I  was  not  exactly  defending  them,  Duchess,"  smiled  Mr.  Lan- 
caster; "  I  was  merely  maintaining  that  no  man  was  uniformly 
and  unexceptionably  bad  ;  that  even  the  worst  had  some  one 
redeeming  point,  as  in  all  natures,  including  the  most  abased, 
the  saving  grace  of  love  was  to  be  found;  and  I  instanced 
Caligula's  devotion  to  Ccesonia,  and  Nero's  infatuation  about 
Poppsea." 

"  Nero  !  "  cried  Benaraby,  in  a  kind  of  ecstatic  enthusiasm — = 
throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  folding  his  arms,  as  was 
his  wont  when  he  clung  to  the  tail  of  another  person's  argu- 
ment, and  determined  to  ride  home  upon  it  without  drawing 
bridle — "Nero!  the  greatest  benefactor  to  mankind  that  has 
ever  yet  dawned  upon  the  world  ! "  Here  there  was  a  univer- 
sal pause  of  astonishment ;  which  was  precisely  the  point  for 
which  Mr.  Benaraby  always  steered  ;  while,  for  a  moment.  Lord 
Redby  looked  at  him  with  an  uncomfortable  dubious  expression, 
as  much  as  to  say — 

"  Surely  he'll  never,  even  under  the  influence  of  claret  and 
conceit,  be  such  an  ass  as  to  deal  out  in  this  house — the  strong- 
hold of  whiggism  I — any  of  his  double-distilled  conservative 
theories  about  the  salutary  effects  of  autocratic  despotism." 

But  soon  the  peer's  mind  was  relieved,  by  his  satellite  add- 
ing, for  the  edification  of  his  breathless  auditory,  as  he  threw 
his  eyes  up  to  the  ceiling  with  a  look  of  proud  defiance,  as  if 
challenging  Jove  himself — 

"  The  very  greatest  I  Talk  of  Howard  the  philanthropist — 
a  mere  opaque,  well-meaning  old  gentleman,  who,  though  he 
did  not  actually  go  the  length  of 

'Taking  the  jyrisoned  soul,  and  lapping  it  in  elysium,' 

yet  from  visiting  afflicted  souls  in  prison,  did  in  some  sort  coo- 
sole  the  poor  wretches  in  hot  water :  yet,  what  was  that  com- 


208  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

pared  with  Nero's  boon  to  the  world  ;  for,  according  to  Pliny, 
he  w^as  the  first  who  invented  the  glorious  art  of  iceing  water. 
Here's  to  him,"  added  he,  pouring  out  a  goblet  of  that  cold 
sparkling  fluid,  "  and  may  he  in  return  for  all  his  deeds  on 
earth,  never  get  a  drop  too  much  wdiere  he  now  is." 

"  Bravo  !  old  fellow,"  cried  Trevylian,  amid  the  universal 
laughter  with  which  this  very  unusual  toast  was  received. 

The  earnest,  yet  studiously  piano  manner  in  which  he  had 
drunk  the  monster  memory  of  the  defunct  tyrant  gave  to  the 
burlesque  a  double  impetus  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  laugh  it  had 
caused  had  subsided,  Mr.  Benaraby  leant  forward  and  said,  in 
hopes  of  being  questioned  about  the  Egyptian  Magi,  and  the 
Seers  of  Cairo,  in  w^hich  he  was  well  up — 

"  Were  you  the  witch,  Miss  Panrauir,  or  was  Mr.  Lancaster 
the  wizard,  who  evoked  the  shade  of  that  great  man,  Nero ;  or 
were  you  merely  his  Tyro  and  accomplice  in  the  business  ? " 

"  Not  even  that,  Mr.  Benaraby,"  laughed  Edith,  "  for  you 
are  the  real  culprit,  being  the  only  person  who  ever  attempted 
to  raise  Nero,  by  citing  him  as  the  author  of  a  single  benefit  to 
the  world." 

"Ah  !  "  said  Benaraby,  caressing  his  chin,  "  faggots  are  nil^ 
and  horseponds  afar  off,  which  makes  you  courageous,  Miss 
Panmuir,  and  like  all  witcTies — Lancashire  or  other — you  try 
to  lay  the  blame  of  your  sorceries  upon  your  innocent  victims, 
of  which  great  legion  I  stand  foremost,"  concluded  he,  with  a 
low  bow. 

"  Well,  but,"  laughed  the  hostess,  "  as  you  are  so  deeply 
versed  in  all  the  necromantic  spells  of  the  East,  Mr.  Benaraby, 
you  ought,  in  summing  up  your  accusation  against  Miss  Pan- 
muir, proclaim  what  philtres  and  charms  she  has  used  in  the 
incantation." 

"I  am  for  the  French  plan  of  des  circonstances  attenuates^ 
for  all  crimes,  especially  for  the  most  heinous ;  for  the  worse 
they  are,  the  more  extenuation  they  require,  therefore  I  with- 
draw the  count  of  philtres,"  rephed  Benaraby,  "  but  the  fatal 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  209 

effects  of  the  charms  of  the  accused,  not  one  of  the  witnesses 
here  present,  I  am  sure,  will  attempt  to  deny." 

"  There  !  ma  belle  enfant,''^  said  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat  to 
Edith,  with  a  laugh,  as  she  rose  from  the  table,  "  decidedly 

'The  force  of  compliment  can  no  farther  go,' 

SO  we  had  better  go  instead." 

As  Lord  Redby  opened  the  door  for  the  egress  of  the  two 
Duchesses  and  the  rest  of  the  ladies,  a  slight  frown  knit  the 
brows  of  Monsieur  Charles  de  la  Tour-de-Nesle,  who  had  been 
trying  surreptitiously  to  take  a  sketch  of  Edith  on  the  back  of 
his  menu  du  diner  ;  ^'•fai  attrap2:)e  le  traits,  mats  non  le  regard,^^ 
said  he  pettishly,  as  Trevyhan,  who  sat  next  him,  glanced  ob- 
Hquely  at  his  croquis. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  latter,  sotto  voce,  "  allow  me  to 
tell  you  in  plain  English  that  you  are  not  likely  to  obtain  the 
regard  of  any  woman,  as  long  as  you  steal  their  effigy  at  a 
dinner-table,  and  display  its  pro  bono  afterwards,  or  even  to 
catch  their  exj^ression,  beyond  that  of  contempt." 

"  Vous  croyez  .^"  replied  the  Attache,  looking  at  him  over 
his  shoulder,  as  if  the  French  elegant  was  measuring  fatuity 
with  the  English  dandy,  as  a  necessary  preliminary  to  entering 
into  any  farther  encounter. 

But  the  ladies  having  left  them  to  an  Englishman's  only 
paradise — namely,  the  society  of  other  men,  politics,  and  plenty 
of  wine,  we  will  not  intrude  upon  the  mysteries  of  their  barbaric 
Elysium,  but  follow  the  inferior  animals  up-stairs. 

The  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  asked  Edith  if  she  would  kindly 
consider  that  she  had  called  upon  her,  which  she  would  take 
the  earliest  opportunity  of  doing  ;  and  waiving  ceremony  come 
and  dine  with  her  the  next  day  en  petit  comite  ?  "  adding  "  I 
shall  be  most  happy  to  see  Mrs.  Dunbar,  and  the  Archdeacon 
too,  if  they  will  not  be  shocked  at  my  unceremonious  proceed- 
ings ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  have  been  so  much  out  of  England,  my 
dear  Miss  Panmuir,  in  countries  where  people  have  only  two 


210  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

vei-y  p)'imitive  aims  in  living,  those  of  pleasing  their  friends  and 
pleasing  themselves,  that  I  cannot  get  into  our  guinde  steel  and 
whalebone  conventionalities,  the  grand  principle  of  which  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  the  constant  ejffort  to  avoid  anything  hke  the 
escape  of  one  natural  feeling,  or  emotion,  till  we  end  by  having 
none  to  suppress  ;  and  making  a  North  Pole  of  our  sympathies ; 
through  whose  icy  blocks  no  passage  can  be  discovered." 

Edith  accepted  this  invitation  as  cordially  and  frankly  as  it 
was  given.  She  was  not  sure  about  Mrs.  Dunbar,  as  she  seldom 
went  out ;  but  she  knew  she  was  not  exceeding  a  little  of  the 
truth,  in  vouching  for  the  alacrity  with  which  the  Archdeacon 
would  also  avail  himself  of  it. 

The  rooms  now  began  to  fill  rapidly  with  the  Duchess  of 
Diplomat's  evening  guests,  composed  of  the  corps  diiAomatique 
et  de  la  creme  de  la  creme  of  all  nations ;  and  panache^  (as  Mon- 
sieur de  la  Tour  de  Nesle  was  wont  to  express  it),  ^'■D'' artistes 
distingue.^'' 

Amongst  the  earliest  arrivals,  was  a  little  woman,  with  very 
denuded  bones,  conventionally  called  a  neck  and  shoulders,  and 
a  perfect  Cretan  labyrinth  of  hay-colored  ringlets ;  for  she  could 
not  lay  claim  to  being  that  peculiar  phase  of  beauty  (and  also 
one  of  its  loveliest)  which  the  Italians  call  a  Biondina.  She 
was  a  Mrs.  Piers  Moucton,  the  wife  of  the  second  son  of  Sir 
Piers  Moncton — that  eccentric  self-expatriated  Sir  Piers  Monc- 
ton — Edith's  distant  relation,  who,  upon  coming  into  possession 
of  Glenfern,  had  so  summarily  disposed  of  it.  This  lady,  who 
cleverly  managed  to  combine  the  seemingly  two  incompatible 
extremes  of  being  at  the  same  time  over-dressed  and  not 
dressed  at  all,  now  made  her  way  to  the  hostess,  whose  toady- 
in-chief  she  was. 

"  My  dear  Dutchessth,  it  is  useless  to  waste  words  in  asking 
you  how  you  are,  you  look  tho  charmingly,"  lisped  she. 

"  And  you  so  alarmingly,  my  dear  Matty ;  you  seem  to  have 
gone  mad  upon  Boileau's  assertion :  '  Que  rieu  n'est  beau  que 
levrai,  et  certes,  tout  ce  qui  est  vrai,  n'est  pas  necessairement 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  211 

beau,  comme  vous  nous  faites  voir  ;'  and  lialf-a-crown's  worth 
of  gauze,  aurait  niieux  fait  votre  affaire.  But  have  you  got  a 
governess  yet  ? " 

"  Oh  yeth,  thuch  a  thuperior  perthon,  a  Fraulein  Gothekant, 
who  hath  been  throngly  recommended  to  me  by  Mithter  Pon- 
thonby  Ferrai-s  ;  tho  that  I  think  mythelf  very  fortunate  ;  for 
you  know  in  all  hith  bookth  he  sayth  tho  much  about  female 
education,  and  raithing  the  moral  standard  of  it  for  women, 
tho  ath  to  elevate  their  characterth." 

"x\nd,  in  order  to  raise  it,  he  logically  thinks  it  must  first 
be  lowered,  I  suppose,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale.  "  I 
confess  I  should  pause,  were  I  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Tsloncton,  be- 
fore I  confided  so  sacred  a  trust  as  the  educati-m  of  my  chil- 
dren to  a  governess  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  recommenda- 
tion." 

"  You  amathe  me  !  my  dear  Ducheth  ;  for  Mr.  Ponthonby 
Ferrars  ith  tho  clever,  that  I  assure  you  I  feel  quite  proud  and 
elated  at  hith  condethending  to  interetht  himthelf  about  my 
nurthery  arrangementh." 

"Well,  it's  to  be  hoped  that  that  pride  won't  have  a  fall," 
sotto  voced  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale ;  but  this  soliloquy  was 
not  uttered  in  so  low  a  voice  as  to  prevent  Edith  hearing  every 
word  of  it;  which  made  a  painful,  though  perhaps  a  salutary 
impression  upon  her,  as  confirmatory  of  Alciphron  Murray's 
opinion  of  the  subject  of  it. 

"Ecco!"  exclaimed  the  hostess  to  Mrs.  Moncton,  "that 
moving  mountain  Soto  Mayor,"  as  she  looked  towards  a  cor- 
pulent Spanish  Conde,  who  was  rolling  on  towards  them,  like 
the  tide  of  events,  through  every  obstacle ;  sending  glances 
from  his  large  languishing  black  eyes  in  all  directions ;  for,  in 
his  eyes,  all  the  sentiment  denied  to  the  rest  of  his  physique 
had  taken  refuge. 

"On  dit,  Matty,"  continued  her  Grace,  "  that  our  fat  friend 
is  au  dernier  raieux  with  you  ;  if  so,  it  only  shows  what  a  fa- 
tality there  must  be  in  these  sort  of  things." 


212  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

^'■Gare  les  mauvaises  langues,  my  dear  Dutcheth,''^  minauded 
the  little  woman,  shaking  her  hay-coloured  ringlets.  "  I  can- 
not help  hith  thending  me  flowerth  every  morning  ;  but  I  al- 
wayth  tell  Eugenie  to  put  hith  notes  in  the  fire,  and  hith  flow- 
ers in  water." 

"  So  that  you  are  determined  to  make  the  poor  man  go 
through  fire  and  water  for  you  !  vous  nctes  j^cis  degoutee ! " 
laughed  the  Duchess. 

The  huge  Hidalgo  had  at  length  succeeded  in  mooring 
himself  alongside  the  hostess,  and  bowing  profoundly  to  her, 
kept  up  a  fire  of  glances  the  while  at  Mrs.  Moncton,  who  re- 
turned them  over  her  magnificent  bouquet — the  Conde's  last 
ofiering — which  she  kept  before  her  mouth,  in  the  most  co- 
quettish and  conspicuous  manner.  As  this  is  a  world  whose 
human  mosaic  is  composed  of  strong — either  ludicrous  or  pain- 
ful— contrasts,  so  the  Conde  de  Soto  Mayor  was  followed  by 
what  never  could  have  passed  for  even  his  shadow ;  so  pain- 
fully and  spirally  elongated  was  it.  This  locomotive  attenua- 
tion was  "  commonly  called,"  as  the  letters-patent  have  it,  Lord 
Menelaus  Plagiary.  His  wife,  without  being  a  Helen,  had  ran 
away  from  him  ;  so  that  from  the  Heaven  of  Love,  he  had 
fallen  into  the  Slough  of  Despond  of  Literature  ;  but  being, 
politically  speaking,  a  staunch  Peelite,  he  carried  into  the  repub- 
hc  of  letters,  the  mercantile  mesmerism  of  buying  in  the 
cheapest  market  and  selling  in  the  dearest ;  which  he  con- 
trived to  do,  by  subscribing  to  Hookham's,  who  supplied  him 
"with  "all  the  new  and  popular  works,"  as  the  catalogue  pro- 
mises and  vows  to  do.  And  so  smoothing  the  wings  of  his 
"  blighted  and  darkened  spirit,"  as  "  gents "  behind  counters 
phrase  it ;  whose  highly  developed  organizations  are  equally 
imbued  with  Byron  and  Birmingham  ;  he  then  and  there,  amid 
that  box  of  books,  the  scissors  for  his  Mentor,  and  the  paste- 
brush  for  his  Ulysses,  snatched,  amid  this  printed  isle  of  Calyp- 
so, now  a  thought  here,  then  a  page  there,  and  then  again 
somewhat  dishonourably  noted  down  whole  conversations ;  all 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  213 

of  which  he  shook  together,  blended  with  a  shght,  and  very 
thinly  diluted  quantum  of  original  nonsense  of  his  own  ;  which 
he  then  spread,  plain  and  unvarnished,  over  three  volumes  of 
blank  paper,  w^hich  he  forthwith  sold  to  a  fashionable  pub- 
lisher as  "  Lord  Menelaus  Plagiary's  "  new  novel ;  and  from 
whom  he  got  a  good  price  for  this  Sautee  de  Cervelles  :  these 
gentry,  like  Pope's  "  gentle  belle,"  never  being  able  to  "  resist  a 
lord  ! " 

To  avoid  having  to  compliment  Lord  Menelaus  upon  his 
tesselated  "  Tale,"  all  the  choice  specimens  of  which  she  had  al- 
ready seen  in  their  original  quarries,  the  hostess  telegraphed  to 
a  Prima  Donna,  who,  like 

"Linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out," 

was  passing  on,  arm-in-arm,  with  the  Baritone,  to  have  a  little 
entre  acte  flirtation  in  the  conservatory  previous  to  her  grande 
scena  for  the  evening. 

However,  as  in  our  sensible  age  all  sorts  of  love  generally 
gives  place  to  any  sort  of  lucre,  the  Diva,  at  the  Duchess's  com- 
mand, changed  her  course,  and  proceeded  to  the  pianoforte, 
w'here,  having  deposited  her  gloves  and  bouquet,  and  made 
sundry  little  superfluous  arrangements  about  her  Berihe,  during 
the  few  seconds  that  the  Maestro  who  w^as  to  accompany  her 
burst  over  the  instrument  in  a  preliminary  storm  of  harmonious 
discords, — she  then  gave  some  gems  from  "Beatrice  di  Tenda," 
and  the  "Favorita,"  which  eftectually  summoned  the  choice 
spirits  from  "  the  vasty  deep  "  of  the  dining-room.  Mr.  Lan- 
caster and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  entered  almost  simultaneously 
though  by  diflerent  doors  ;  and  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  hav- 
ing made  a  signal  to  the  former,  Avith  her  fon,  in  order  to  ask 
him  to  dine  with  her  on  the  morrow,  he  found  himself,  to  his 
no  small  satisfaction,  again  by  Edith's  side.  Upon  perceiving 
this,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was  almost  rabid  with  rage  and  dis- 
appointment, as  he  stood  contemplating  them,  his  elbow  lean- 
ing on  the  mantelpiece,  to  the  imminent  peril  of  a  costly  and 


214  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

colossal  Capo  de  Monte  vase ;  while  Sallust  himself  would  have 
failed  in  describing  the  horrible  charnel  expression  of  his  fmdi 
oculi, — of  which  "  flabbj'-looking  eye"  would  perhaps  be  a 
nearer  translation,  even  than  "unhealthy  looking,"  as  serpent- 
like it  seemed  to  be  sliming  over  its  victim  previous  to  destroy- 
ing it.  How  different  was  the  buoyant,  earth-spurning  step  ! 
the  fine  Promethean  dare-the-gods,  scale-heaven  air,  with  which 
Mr.  Benaraby  seemed  to  draw  the  stubborn  bolt  of  the  world's 
power  vigorously  towards  him,  and  then  shoot  his  own  spirit 
swiftly  on  before  the  somewhat  grotesque  body  that  was 
but  its  framework.  As  he  entered  those  briUiant  and  now 
densely-crovfded  rooms,  flinging  his  snowy  handkerchief  in  one 
direction,  his  raven  locks  in  another,  and  his  scintillating  glances, 
— those  Ethiopian  ambassadors  in  all — 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Benaraby,"  said  the  hostess,  "  you  are  the  very 
person  that  I  wanted ;  for  I  know  no  leveller  and  accomplisher 
of  impossibilities  but  you, — and  I  have  a  nice  Httle  insurmount- 
able one,  that  I  want  you  to  get  over  for  me." 

After  the  preliminary  of  a  profound  bow  for  this  hyperboli- 
cal compliment,  the  personage  thus  addressed,  plunging  his 
hands  into  his  trouser  pockets,  and  elevating  his  shoulders  into 
what  is  commonly  called  a  shrug,  said  with  his  usual  modesty 
— "  Well,  perhaps  I  do  possess  the  same  little  talent  which  a 
contemporary  writer  tersely  and  truly  atti'ibutes  to  Napoleon 
the  First — that  of  creating  conditions  which  are  inexhaustible, 
— which  every  Pioneer  of  what  ordinary  men  call  'impossibili- 
ties '  does." 

"Then,  by  Jove!"  said  Lord  Ernest  Clare  aside  to  Mr.  Far- 
rington,  "  he  must  have  created  his  own  impudence  !  for  I  know 
of  no  condition  more  inexhaustible." 

"But  what  is  the  little  bramble  that  dares  to  obstruct  your 
path,  belle  duchesse?"  added  Benaraby.  "  Is  it  possible  that 
the  dull  earth  can  evince  less  gratitude  towards  you  than  to'rds 
lo  ? — and  send  forth  anything  less  soft  and  less  fragrant  than 
violels,  ill  relurn  for  the  pressure  of  those  lovely  feet?     But  if 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  215 

SO,  you  have  only  to  coinmand  the  axe  of  my  indomitable  will, 
to  clear  away  the  obstacle,  be  it  what  it  may !" 

"  Quant  a  cela  ! "  laughed  the  Duchess,  "  it  does  not  amount 
to  anything  quite  so  formidable  as  a  wrestle  with  the  Fates  ! — 
still,  the  achievement  I  require  at  your  hands  is  difficult  enough 
in  all  conscience ;  nothing  less  than  to  erect  a  superstructure 
without  a  foundation." 

"  Nothing  easier,  you  mean ;  for  do  not  most  of  us,  despite 
the  disillusioning  (to  coin  a  word)  inroads  of  utilitarianism,  pass 
our  lives  in  the  study  of  that  peculiar  kind  of  aerial  architecture, 
called  castle-building  ?  "  said  Benaraby. 

"  Yes,  for  ourselves,  but  not  for  our  neighbours ;  and  as  for 
those  horrid  utilitarians,  had  they  the  power  of  remodelling  the 
creation,  which,  thank  heaven,  they  have  not,  I  verily  beheve 
they  would  erase  the  stars  from  the  skies  and  the  flowers  from 
the  earth,  merely  because  their  utility  is  filtered  through  the 
beautiful." 

"Take  care.  Duchess;  speak  more  respectfully  of  those  scav- 
engers of  political  economy — the  utilitarians  ;  or  you  will  have 
to  run  a  tilt  with  your  protege,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  who  is 
one  of  their  chief  commissioners,"  said  Lord  Ernest  Clare. 

"Ah  !  "  rejoined  the  lady,  languidly,  "  he  is  a  great  logician 
is  he   not?     All   syllogisms,  and  sequences,  and  that  sort  of 
thing?" 

"  Being  a  mass  of  contradictions,"  said  Mr.  Farrington,  '■'■  per- 
haps he  may  even  be  a  good  logician  ;  otherwise  I  should  doubt 
the  fact,  as  I  don't  see  how  a  man,  always  moving  in  what  lo- 
gicians call  a  vicious  circle,  as  he  most  unquestionabh'  does,  can 
ever  be  logical ! " 

It  might  be  that  Mr.  Benaraby  thought  there  was  some- 
thing decidedly  personal  in  this  allusion  of  Mr.  Farrington's  to 
\n&  friend  (/)  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  vicious  circle;  so,  throwing 
back  his  mane  with  considerable  hauteur,  and  sprinkling,  as  it 
were,  the  last  speaker  with  a  contemptuous  look,  hurled  in  the 
flash  of  a  side-glance  from  his  meteoric  eyes,  he  said  to  the 
Duchess  <if  T>iploiii;it,  in  his  blandest  tone— 


216  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  How  long,  Duchess,  is  tlie  lance  of  your  true  knight  to  re- 
main in  rest  ?  I  am  only  waiting  for  your  colours  to  rush  to 
the  onslaught." 

"  Ah !  true ;  I  had  nearly  forgotten.  I  want  you  to  say 
something  civil  de  ma  joo.'rt  to  Lord  Menelaus  Plagiary  about 
his  book,  which  I  really  have  not  the  face  to  say  to  him 
myself." 

"  Ob,  is  that  all  ? "  said  Benaraby.  "  Well,  I  shall  be 
charmed  to  do  your  spiriting,  my  dear  Duchess ;  for  I  rather 
think  I  am  an  admirer  of  Lord  Menelaus'  productions." 

"  What !  you  actually  cany  your  mania  for  eccentricity  and 
originality  as  far  as  that  ?  "  said  Lord  Ernest  Clare,  laughing. 

"  Rather  say,  my  affable  imitation,"  rejoined  Benaraby,  with 
a  sort  of  burlesque  regality  of  look,  as  if  from  the  height  of  his 
grandeur  he  had  been  conferring  knighthood  upon  a  city  sad- 
dler ;  "  for  on  this  occasion,  I  condescend  to  follow  the  example 
of  Voltaire,  who  was  wont  to  say  that  he  could  pardon  and  over- 
look any  faults  of  style  in  an  author,  so  long  as  he  set  you  think- 
ing. Now,  Lord  Menelaus  has  this  effect  upon  me,  more  than 
any  writer  of  modern  times,  for  I  never  open  and  shut — 
which  are  simultaneous  movements — one  of  his  books,  without 
its  setting  me  thinking  what  an  egregious  ass  he  is  ! " 

Scarcely  had  the  laugh  subsided,  which  followed  this 
speech,  made  more  ludicrous  by  the  imjoerturbable  gravity  with 
w^hich  it  had  been  delivered,  than  seeing  the  subject  of  it  making 
his  way  towards  the  hostess,  she  hastily  beckoned  to  Mr.  Lan- 
caster, and  requested  him  to  sing  something. 

"  Do,^^  added  she,  "  sing  '  Suava  Imagine,' — you  sing  that 
so  exquisitely  ;  or  that  serenade  of  Schubert's  ? " 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  my  dear  Duchess,"  said  he,  with  a 
smile,  "  I  never  venture  upon  anything  beyond  English  before 
foreign  arthtes ;  because  they  then  charitably  attribute  all  my 
deficiencies  to  the  barbarity  of  our  language,  and  the  inharmo- 
nious construction  of  our  souls  ;  for,  as  the  Italian  proverb  truly 
says, — '  You  must  sing  with  the  soul  before  you  can  sing  with 
tlie  voice.' " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  2l7 

"Would  that  our  amateur  young  lady  singers,  whose  shrill, 
unmodulated  screams  resemble  those  of  the  peacock,  far  more 
than  the  notes  of  the  nightingale,  could  have  that  truth 
thoroughly  impressed  upon  them,  before  they — set  on  by  their 
remoi-setess  mammas — so  unmercifully  split  one's  ears,"  groaned 
the  Duchess.  "  But  you^  my  dear  Lancaster,  always  do  sing 
with  your  soul :  and  as  your  soul  is  a  great  linguist,  you  need 
not  be  afraid  to  give  utterance  to  its  feelings,  either  in  German, 
Ttahan,  Spanish,  French,  Russian,  or  Romaic." 

"  I  may  not,  it  is  true,  incur  so  much  danger  from  any  of 
those  tongues  as  from  such  flattery  from  the  Duchess  of  Diplo- 
mat's !"  bowed  Mr.  Lancaster,  as  he  moved  on  to  the  piano. 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  more  disgusting  and  degrading  than 
another,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  with  the  most  exaggerated 
sarcasm,  as  he  glided  into  Mr.  Lancaster's  now  vacant  place  by 
Edith's  side,  "  it  is  to  see  a  man  who  calls  himself  a  gentleman, 
converting  himself  into  a  fiddler  ;  and  playing  the  mountebank 
for  the  amusement  of  a  set  of  people  who  can  afford  to  pay  pro- 
fessional mountebanks." 

"  It  is  evident  from  that,"  retorted  Edith,  vrith  equal,  but 
for  more  polished  and  quiet  sarcasm, — for  she  was  beginning  to 
be  both  indignant  and  revolted  at  his  gratuitous  insults  to  Mr. 
Lancaster — "  it  is  evident  from  that,  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars 
is  not  endowed  with  the  divine  gift  of  music  ! " 

"  No,  thank  Heaven  !"  said  he,  vehemently. 

"  There  are  other  things,  for  the  absence  of  which  one  might 
have  more  reason  to  be  grateful  to  Heaven — unprovoked  malice 
for  one,"  rejoined  Edith. 

Her  companion  bit  his  nether  lip  sharply,  with  a  gasp,  and 
a  crimson  flush  for  half  a  second  lit  up  his  ghastly  cheek,  like  a 
lurid  red  light  in  the  vvild  waste  of  a  desolate  country,  glaring 
athwart  a  murky  night,  so  as  to  render  its  darkness  more  terri- 
ble ;  and  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  low,  mellow  chords  of 
the  symphony  that  Mr.  Lancaster  was  now  playing,  arrested 
Edith's  attention,  and,  putting  up  her  finger,  she  said,  "Hush  !" 
10 


218  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  the  next  moment,  with  one  of  those  rich,  full,  exquisitely 
modulated  voices,  in  whose  every  tone  seems  to  kneel  an  im- 
passioned persuasion,  he  sang  the  following  song  : — 

long. 

I  have  woo'd  thee  as  a  thought, 

I  have  loved  thee  as  a  dream, 
Till  all  else  became  as  naught — 

Mere  faint  shadows  on  life's  stream. 

I  have  lived  upon  a  look ! — 

A  tone  I  a  touch !  a  flower ! 
Bnt  from  each  and  all  I  took 

Spells  of  wondrous  power  I 

For  I've  been  with  thee  ever,  ■ 

Tho'  but  as  the  angels  are ; 
"Who  wake  and  watch,  yet  never 

Leave  their  lone,  pure  sphere  afar. 

For  not  even  unto  thine 

May  my  soul  its  secret  tell, 
Till  thy  spirit  mirrors  mine, 

Like  to  stars  within  a  well. 

Where,  hidden  from  all  eyes, 

Save  those  which  thi^se  depths  have  sought, 

They  stereotype  the  skies 

With  bright  rays  from  heaven  caught  I 

"  Beautiful !  Charming  !  Bravissimo  ! "  were  echoed  on  all 
sides,  as  the  last  notes  did  not  seem  so  much  to  die  away  upon 
the  air,  as  to  blend  with  it  into  one  enduring  harmony :  and 
none  were  so  loud  in  their  lavish  and  generous  applause  of  Mr. 
Lancaster's  exquisite  voice,  as  those  whose  own  genius  enabled 
them  best  to  appreciate  it.  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  tribute,  if 
not  equally  complimentary,  was,  at  all  events,  more  original,  for 
he  merely  muttered  between  his  set  teeth, — 

"D n  the  fellow!" 

Edith  said  notbing ;  but  every  word  and  every  tone  had 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  '  219 

sunk  into  her  heart,  and  seemed  to  have  opened  a  new  and 
hitherto  undreamt  of  vista  of  existence  to  her.  The  complex 
foreshadowings  of  her  imagination,  which  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars's  highly-wrought,  but  cold  and  hollow  intellectualities  had 
for  the  last  two  years  awakened  and  evoked,  appeared  now  to 
be  suddenly  vi\ified  by  some  mystic  and  divine  light  into  real- 
izing and  completing  themselves  in  her  heart,— ^as  we  may  sup- 
pose our  disembodied  spirits,  once  freed  from  their  earthly 
struggle  and  corporeal  trammels,  will,  in  the  efi'ulgence  of  Hea- 
ven, at  once  achieve  the  perfectionized  and  climacteric  unity  and 
completeness  of  their  creation,  which,  however  they  may  have 
caught  occasional  glimpses  of,  they  have  in  vain  toiled  after  on 
earth.  The  nearest  approach  we  have  below  to  this  universality 
and  completeness  of  existence,  is  when,  for  the  first  time,  intu- 
ition floods  our  heart  with  that  marvellous  light  by  -which  it  reveals 
to  us  the  great  knowledge  that  another  heart  has  been  kindled  at 
our  own,  and  that  we  are  Loved  !  For,  verily,  the  two  hemispheres 
of  such  twin  souls  form  one  bright,  unclouded  firmament,  which 
fully  exemplifies  the  beautiful  description  of  the  Psalmist ;  for 
between  such,  though, — 

"There  is  neither  speech  nor  language,"  yet  "their  voices  are  heard 
among  them." 

Unheard  and  unsuspected  by  all  others,  eloquent  had  been 
the  voiceless  words  of  that  mute  language  which  had  passed 
between  Edith  Panmuir  and  Harold  Lancaster  that  night. 
Therefore,  decidedly,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars's  lucky  star — whe- 
ther Lucifer  or  any  other — had  forsaken  him,  when  he  chose  so 
inauspicious  a  moment  to  request  that  she  would  allow  him  to 
call  upon  her  as  early  as  one  the  next  morning.  A  disagree- 
able sensation  came  over  her ;  she  hesitated,  and  tremulously 
repeated  the  word — 

"  To-morrow  ? " 

"Even  so;  there  is  a  ^  to-morrow^  to  all  things  in  this 
world,  not  excepting  a  woman's  caprice ! ''  rejoined  her  com- 
panion, in  a  more  than  usually  dry  and  compressed  manner. 


220  -  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  As  I  seldom  indulge  in  caprices,"  said  Edith,  with  a  slight, 
very  slight  tone  and  look  of  resentment,  "  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
have  to-morrow  at  my  disposal." 

"  Miss  Panmuir,"  resumed  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  suddenly 
changing  the  expression  of  his  countenance  and  his  whole  bear- 
ing to  one  of  the  greatest  self-abnegation,  accompanied  by  a 
look  of  intense  and  unutterable  despair,  "  there  are  twelve  long 
miserable  hours  in  the  day ;  have  you  not  sufficient  humanity 
to  devote  half  of  any  one  of  those  hours  to  save  a  fellow-creature 
from  the  rack  ? " 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  purport  of  these"  w^ords.  Edith 
both  blushed  and  trembled,  as  she  stammered  out — 

"To-morrow,  then,  at  one,  I  shall  be  at  home." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  did  not,  in  reply  to  this  acquiescence  on 
her  part,  utter  one  word  ;  he  merely  made  her  a  profound  bow 
over  his  hat,  which  he  seemed  to  hold  tightly  between  both  his 
hands,  more,  apparently,  as  a  support  to  himself  than  to  it; 
after  which  obeisance,  he  walked  leisurely  to  one  of  the  doors, 
and  quitted  the  room.  Mr.  Lancaster  looked  over  wistfully  at 
the  place  he  had  vacated,  without,  however,  making  any  at- 
tempt to  take  it.  He  now  Jcneio  that  Edith  understood  him  ; 
he  felt  that  a  spiritual  and  sacred  compact  had  passed  between 
them,  and  he  dreaded  lest  the  coarse  and  common-place  medi- 
um of  words  (till  he  might  launch  them  on  the  full  tide  of  a 
love  as  deep  as  it  was  pure)  should  mar  a  single  grace  of  that 
sublime  epopee  of  passion,  towards  whose  creation  they  had 
never  contributed. 

But  Edith  was  not  left  long  to  the  mingled  pleasure  and 
pain  of  her  own  thoughts ;  for  the  Archdeacon,  who  had  re- 
ceived the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  invitation  from  her  own  lips, 
coupled  with  a  warm  eulogium  upon  Edith,  now^  came  fus«ing 
up  to  the  latter,  in  high  good-humour,  as  he  began  to  think  she 
was  not  such  a  fool  after  all,  and  had  played  her  cards  very 
skilfully;  for  there  is  this  remarkable  peculiarity  about  ma- 
noeuvrers,  which  is,  that  they  never  can  imagine  the  possibility 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  221 

of  any  event  of  a  favourable  nature  coming  about  simply 
through  the  intervention  of  Providence,  or  even  through  that 
of  Providence's  left  hand — chance  !  Everything  that  occurs 
they  invariably  attribute  to  the  tactics  or  preconcerted  plans  of 
the  individual  to  whom  it  happens  ;  consequently,  Archdeacon 
Panmuir  gave  Edith  credit  for  an  astute  and  recondite  scheme 
to  get  into  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  good  graces,  of  which 
she  was  perfectly  incapable,  both  by  capacity,  inclination,  and 
principle. 

"  Humph  !  ahem  !  A  certain  young  lady  is  looking  very 
well  to-night ! — ijcry  well  indeed,"  said  Samuel  Panmuir,  be- 
stowing a  sort  of  copyright  migratory  scrutiny  from  head  to 
foot  upon  his  fair  cousin,  as  he  accosted  her. 

"I  don't /ee^  very  well,  though;  Fve  a  dreadful  headache; 
the  rooms  are  so  very  hot.  Would  you  have  any  objection  to 
go,  for  I  think  it  must  be  late  ? " 

"ISTot  a  bad  move  ! "  said  the  Archdeacon,  offering  her  his 
arm  ;  "  decidedly,  we  are  improving.  A  beauty,  whenever  she 
becomes  'th'e  cynosure  of  wondering  eyes,'  as,  I  must  say,  you 
are  to-night,  Edith,  should  always  disappear  at  a  critical  mo- 
ment, that  her  absence  may  be  regretted  and  her  beauty  dis- 
cussed." 

"  And  her  tout  ensemhle  dissected,"  added  Edith,  with  a 
weary  smile. 

"  N'ow,  it  is  very  evident,"  continued  the  Archdeacon,  pm-- 
suing  his  own  train  of  thought  as  steadily  as  if  it  had  never 
been  interrupted — "  plain  to  be  seen  as  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's — 
that  we  have  quite  made  the  conquest  of  the  mother,  which  may 
be  considered  as  the  mezzo  termine  to  that  of  the  son.  So  mind, 
my  gentle  coz,"  continued  he,  as  they  descended  the  stairs,  in 
that  inflated  "  national  drama  "  tone  which  he  always  assumed 
when  he  meant  to  be  particularly  gallant  and  insinuating — 
"  mind,  I  say,  that  when  this  will-o'-the-wisp  of  a  duke  does 
make  his  appearance,  you  lose  no  time  in  catching  himP 

"  And  how  are  dukes  caught  ? "  asked  Edith,  resuming  a 


222  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

fausse  agnes  look  of  the  uttermost  simplicity,  not  to  say  stupid- 
ity, which  she  planted  in  the  very  centre  of  the  reverend  gen- 
tleman's genuinely  inane  orbs.  "  Are  they  caught  by  salt  be- 
ing strewed  upon  their  heads,  as  nursery  oracles  enjoin  should 
be  sprinkled  on  birds'  tails  for  their  capture  ;  or  by  throwing 
dust  in  their  eyes,  as  people  catch  the  ophthalmia  in  Egypt  ? " 

Samuel  Panmuir  had  a  vague  notion,  not  indeed  that  his 
cousin  w^as  laughing  at  him — silk  and  lawn  forbade  such  a  sac- 
rilegious idea  ! — but  that  she  was  indulging  in  a  jest  6f  some 
kind.     Therefore,  he  replied — 

"  Ah !  w^ell,  the  mother  is  so  stately  and  penseroso^  that 
doubtless  the  son,  in  that  spirit  of  contradiction  which  possesses 
all  elder,  and  more  especially  all  only  sons,  prefers  the  allegro. 
At  all  events,  it  is  certain,  that  how^ever  well  honey  may  catch 
flies,  vinegar  never  can  do  so.  Therefore,  I  advise  you  by  all 
means  to  cultivate  your  merry  mood ;  as  you  know  the  pro- 
verb,— '  Those  may  laugh  that  win.'" 

"And  in  case  of  one's  not  wanning,  it  is  wise  to  secure  one's 
laughi  beforehand,"  said  Edith,  as  they  entered  the  cloak-room, 
where  Mademoiselle  ISTatalie,  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's  pre- 
miere  femme  de  chamhre,  was  seized  with  such  a  paroxysm  of 
admiration  at  the  sight  of  Edith  (which  was  both  professional 
and  profound — the  former  being  for  her  toilette^  and  the  latter 
for  her  beauty),  that  she  let  fall  a  whole  pehon  of  cashmeres 
upon  an  ossa  of  cloaks,  in  order  to  clasp  her  hands  for  some 
seconds,  before  she  had  sufficiently  recovered  her  self-possession 
to  inquire  what  sort  of  wrap  she  should  have  the  honour  of 
looking  out  for  Madame  La  Comtesse. 

And  the  perfectly  Parisian  accent  and  equally  Parisian  grace 

with  which  Edith,  in  thanking  Mademoiselle  Natalie,  described 

«  her  little  white  Algerian  striped  bournouse,  lined  with  pale  green, 

was  even  more  lovely  in  the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  souhrette  than 

the  transcendant  beauty  which  had  at  first  captivated  her. 

Lovers  are  almost  a  ubiquitous  race,  otherwise  it  would  have 
been  strange  hovr  Mr.  Lancaster  had  managed  to  get  there  just 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  223 

in  time  to  put  on  that  identical  boiirnouse,  and  to  hold  the  bou- 
quet^ while  its  owner  plunged  her  little  feet  daintily  shod  with 
white  satin,  into  a  pair  of  small  violet  and  silver  Russian  over- 
shoes ;  and  it  would  have  been  stranger  still,  but  for  certain 
mysterious  affinities — the  secrets  of  whose  chemistry  are  known 
to  all  who  love  I — how  the  slight  and  almost  imperceptible  pres- 
sure of  his  hand  on  hers,  as  he  returned  the  flowers — could  have 
sent  all  the  blood  from  her  heart,  thrilling  up  in  one  mighty  rush 
to  her  cheeks.  But  never  yet  were  two  hearts  busied  in  compos- 
ing an  Odyssey  of  this  nature,  but  what  the  fell  common-place  of 
some  harsh  prosaic  sound,  was  sure  to  come  crashing  and  jarring 
between  their  harmonious  strophes  and  anti-strophes ;  and  now 
it  came  in  the  form  of  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  hall  porter, 
echoed  by  a  score  of  lacqueys,  announcing  that — 
''  Archdeacon  Panmuir's  carriage  stops  the  way  !  " 
"Archdeacon  and  Miss  Panmuir  coming  out !  "  re-roared 
another  detachment ;  which  gave  Mr.  Lancaster  an  opportunity 
of  oflering  his  arm  to  Edith,  as  the  Archdeacon  redoubled  his 
assiduities  to  his  own  Paletot^  which  had  a  restive  sleeve. 

"  Now  my  dear  Edith,"  said  the  reverend  gentleman,  as 
soon  as  they  had  turned  out  of  Park  Lane,  and  he  had  flung 
himself  back  into  one  corner  of  his  luxurious  Clarence — "  that 
Mr.  Lancaster  is  all  very  well,  as  young  men  go,  and  as  he  seems 
a  huge  favourite  with  the  two  Duchesses,  you  must  be  civil  to 
him,  and  all  that ;  but,  take  my  advice,  don't  encourage  his  at- 
tentions too  much,  you  may  be  sorry  for  it  if  you  do — when 
this  slippery  young  Duke  of  Liddesdale  makes  his  appearance. 
Depend  upon  it,  old  heads  are  wiser  than  young  ones,  and  /  can 
see  further  into  a  millstone  than  most  people." 


SECTIOT^  IX. 

"I  press  towards  the  mark.'''— Phil.  iii.  14'. 
"  It's  well  to  be  off  with  the  old  love 
Before  you  are  on  with  the  new." 

Old  Song. 

"  High  hopes  have  ofttimes  hard  fortunes ; 
And  such  as  hastily  snatch  at  the  branches 
Are  apt  to  stumble  at  the  root." 

When  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  quitted  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's^ 
he  dismissed  his  Brougham  and  walked,  or  rather  shot  on,  into 
Oxford  Street,  where,  calling  a  Hansom,  he  flung  himself  into 
it,  telling  the  man  to — 

"  Drive  like  the  d 1  to  No.  —  in  the  Edgeware  Road." 

"  How  be  I  to  know  how  you  drives,  ven  I've  never  seed 
you  handle  the  ribbons  ? "  muttered  Cabby  as  he  scrambled  into 
his  perch,  being  only  half  awake,  and  not  sober  quite  to  the 
same  extent.  ISText  to  a  mail-bag,  nothing  in  creation  expedites 
so  many  hopes,  fears,  and  conflicting  passions,  as  hack  horses^ 
poor  animals  ! — blessed  are  they  even  in  their  purgatory — that 
though  they  aid  and  further  them  all,  they  are  not  responsible 
for  any  of  them,  or  else  the  poor  phantom  steed  that  now  panted 
on  towards  the  Edgeware  Road,  might  have  found  his  freight 
far  too  heavy  for  liis  ossified  strength.  The  Hansom  at  length 
stopped  at  one  of  those  two-wnndowed,  narrow-doored  brick  tene- 
ments peculiar  to  London,  and  which  appear  to  be  constructed 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  225 

for  the  express  purpose  of  narrowing  the  mind  and  condensing 
vice  into  the  most  concentrated  focus  possible,  so  as  to  render 
its  virus  the  more  baneful  and  fatal. 

Lio-hts  dared  throuo-h  the  bare-looking  white  linen  blinds 
of  what  was  by  courtesy  called  the  drawing-room  of  this  domi- 
ciliary band-box ;  and  through  its  blotting-paper  walls  were  dis- 
tinctly heard  some  of  Beethovens  enchanting  strains  upon  an 
indifferent  piano,  played  in  a  masterly  manner ;  which,  how- 
ever, suddenly  ceased  the  moment  the  cab  stopped  at  the  door. 
Before  the  driver  had  finished  knocking,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars 
had  sprung  to  the  pavement,  and  a  sleepy  and  slipshod  maid 
of  all-work — her  vermilion  locks  carefully  papered  in  lumpy, 
greasy-looking  packets,  like  superannuated  maintenon  cutlets 
round  her  forehead,  while  her  face  and  hands  were  profusely 
black-leaded — had  scarcely  opened  the  door,  ere  he  rushed  in, 
flinging  the  cabman  a  shilling.  "  Vot's  this  here  for  ?  it  haint 
my  fare,"  said  the  latter,  contemplating  the  coin  the  while  with 
a  sort  of  archgeological  scrutiny. 

"  Oh  !  isn't  it  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  slamming  the 
door  in  his  face  ;  "  then  the  moi-e  handsome  on  my  part ;  for  you 
know  handsome  is  as  Hansom  does  ;  "  and  grinning  with  de- 
light at  this  elegant  piece  of  wit,  which  he  resolved  upon  mak- 
ing a  present  to  his  friend  Mr.  Carlo  Dials,  at  their  next  meeting, 
he  cleared  four  or  five  of  the  narrow  stairs  at  a  time,  and  soon 
found  himself  on  the  first  landing,  in  the  slipshod  and  dishevel- 
led presence  of  Fraulein  Gothekant. 

"  Ah !  Tot  a  time  you  'ave  keep  me  vaiting,"  exclaimed 
she,  in  what  she  fondly  believed  to  be  the  purest  English  ;  for 
we  may  here  mention  in  confidence  to  the  public,  trusting  it  won't 
get  bruited  about  in  any  private  circles,  that  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  though  he  had  long  extacised  in  the  most  high-pres- 
sure style  upon  German  literature,  and  translated  divers  German 
poems  and  tales,  was  yet  innocent  of  knowing  a  single  guttural 
of  that  most  bronchitial  language ;  so  much  for  appearances  and 
circumstantial  evidence. 
10* 


226-  '        BEHIND    THE    SCENE^?, 

"  I  have  got,"  continued  Fraulein,  "  the  most  loajiy  supper  t- 
— a  cabbage  s^upe,  how  you  call  it  ? — and  dose  big  loatly  onioi> 
of  Spain,  and  now  dey  vill  be  all  colt — dey  gat  so  soon  colt." 

"  Are  onioiis  then  so  lik«  love  !  my  charming  friend,  that 
the  hotter  they  are,  the  sooner  they  cool?"  asked  the  gentle- 
man thus  apostrophized,  with  a  mock  heroic  air,  and  the  ghost 
of  a  leer. 

"  IS"©,  not  in  a  Garman  hearts  ;  but  de  Anglishe  he  is  a  colt 
peoples,  de  loafers  and  all,"  responded  Fraulein,  throwing  up 
her  large  eyes,  which  were  not  on  that  account  the  more  beau- 
tiful, being  of  a  fishy,  yellowish  green,  watery  hue — of  which, 
however,  none  of  her  other  features  had  any  cause  to  be  jealous 
— as  her  cheek-bones  rose  high  like  two  bastions  on  either  side 
of  her  nose:  while  her  mouth  was  more  like  a  loner  zisf-zasj 
sheep-walk,  than  any  thing  else,  with  various  pufBng-s  and  pro- 
jections about  it,  as  if  for  the  last  twenty  years  the  remorseless 
and  battering-ram  gutturals  of  her  mother  tongue  had  been- 
hurled  from  her  throat  with  such  an  impetus,  as  to  mutilate  and 
maltreat  her  lips  in  the  most  shocking  manner  in  i>ssuing  from 
them  ;  while  her  elf  locks  of  black  hair,  she  wore  a  I'enfant 
about  her  shoulders,  and  from  a  more  Celtic,  than  Circean, 
habit  she  had  of  scratchina;  her  head  to  elicit  ideas  durino-  lier 
literary  gestations,  and  midnight  translations  for  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  (which  he  afterwards  did  into  polished  English  at  his 
great  paper  works),  its  mazes  more  resembled  those  of  the 
Cretan  labyrinth  than  of  "  the  lady's  real  head  of  hair  ; "  so 
that  her  chief  points  of  attraction  consisted  in  youth,  a  trim 
little  figure,  and  having  some  brains  inside  of  her  head — if  she 
had  no  beauty  outside  of  it, — which  brains  in  a  woman,  men 
of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fei-rars'  calibre  like  well  enough  for  use,  how- 
ever they  may  eschew  them  for  companionship ;  and,  although 
her  national  mixture  of  coarseness  and  cleverness,  saurkraut^and 
sentiment,  often  jarred  upon  the  delicate  perceptions  of  the  fine 
gentleman  ;  still  her  German,  and  other  grammatical  and 
governess  attributes,  were  exceedingly  useful  to  the  profession ai 


fiEIIIKD    THE    SCENES.  227 

litterateur ;  so  that,  as  the  advertising  puffs  say  relative  to  pur- 
chasing tallovr  candles  "wholesale,  in  instalHng  Fraulein  Adelaida 
Gotheliant  among  the  Odalisks  of  his  Zenana — he  had  "  com* 
bined  economy  with  utihty." 

"  Prician  protect  me  !  What  I  do  I  hear  lovers  in  the  plural 
number  ?  I  had  flattered  myself  your  knowledge  of  the  Euglish 
had  not  been  so  extensive,  Adelaida  ? " 

"iSTo  intede,  de  loafer  I  have  is  in  te  singular  number,  and 
a  var  singular  loafer  he  is,  so  seldom  to  coam  near  me  ;  and  to 
keep  me  vaiting  suppere  vhen  he  dose  coam,  and  spoil  all  my 
loafly  onion  of  Spain  in  dis  vay.  But  coam,"  added  she,  open- 
ing a  small  folding  door  into  another  little  den,  called  in  the 
house,  "  the  dining-room," — "let  us  go  to  suppere  at  last;  for 
I  am  quite  exhause,  exhause, — how  you  say  ? — wid  griefs  and 
hongers." 

"  Faugh  I  supper-^and  such  a  supper  1 — I  have  this  moment 
dined  ;  but  I  shall  be  charmed  to  see  my  Light  of  the  Harem 
at  her  '  feast  of  roses,' — cabbage  roses,  though  they  be  !  " 

"  Ah  !  doujours  le  hersifflage^''  muttered  Fraulein,  in  what 
she  intended  for  French  (I)  which  she  always  resorted  to  when 
she  was  determined  her  inamorato  should  understand  her,  and 
at  the  same  time  that  she  did  not  hke  to  run  the  risk  of  being 
cutting  in  (un)  plain  English — '■^  Houi^  doujours  le  bersifflage  ! ''* 
she  repeated,  as  she  plunged  a  knife,  in  most  dagger-like  style, 
into  the  very  heart  of  one  of  "  the  loafly  onion  of  Spain  !  " 

"  Au  contraire,  ma  belle,"  replied  the  gentleman  ;  "  I  never 
was  more  serious ;  for,  first  of  all,  are  you  not  about  to  leave 
me  for  a  time  to-morrow?  and,  next,  we  have  a  little  matter  of 
business  to  transact,  but  as  I  never  can  do  anything  without 
my  pipe  (which  was  quite  true ;  for,  like  most  modern  celebri- 
ties, Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  could  do  nothing  without  a  puff  I 
and  after  all  this  was  but  common  gratitude,  for  puffs  had  been 
the  making  of  him  !)  so  with  your  permission,  Adelaida,  I  will 
light  my  meerschaum ;  but  have  you  any  brandy  in  the  house  ?" 
And  so  saying,  he  took  a  large  German  pipe  from  the  chimney^ 


228  iiEtllKD    TEiE    SCENES* 

piece,  and  plunged  his  fingers  into  a  blue  jar  of  Latakai  beside 
it — pipes  and  their  supply  being  the  fixed  Lares  and  Penates 
of  his  numerous  promiscuous  abodes.  The  brandy,  having  been 
brought  from  a  neighbouring  caSare^, Avas,  as  maybe  supposed^ 
pronounced  execrable ;  so,  flinging  the  vermihon-locked  Hebe 
a  sovereign,  he  ordered  her  (though  it  was  then  past  midnight) 
to  take  a  cab  and  go  to  the  Hyde  Park  Hotel  for  a  bottle  of 
cognac;  holding  out  the  seductive  promise,  that  if  it  v/as  not 
genuine,  when  she  brought  it  he  would  fling  it  at  her  head, 
and  make  her  pay  for  it  out  of  her  wages.  As  the  small,  scan- 
tily, and  vulgarly  furnished  room  became  enveloped  in  clouds 
of  smoke,  the  tableau  to  be  seen  athwart  them,  however  it 
might  have  been  historic,  was  certainly  not  classical;  for  per- 
haps, after  all,  setting  aside  conventionalities,  the  most  vulgar 
thing  in  the  world  is  vice ;  it  must  necessarily  be  so  from  its 
contacts ;  and  the  features  of  the  man  now  puffing  out,  in  that 
chair,  the  vapour  of  life  with  that  of  tobacco — features  which 
nature  had,  at  least,  made  aristocratic — were  daily  and  hourly 
calcining  down  into  the  mirey  and  debased  type  of  sensuality 
and  cynicism.  Whenever  his  peculiarly  animal  and  revolting- 
looking  mouth  was  for  a  moment  freed  from  the  amber  tube  of  the 
j^ipe,  an  expression  of  mingled  disgust  and  contempt  elongated 
the  corners  of  it,  as  he  looked  at  his  poor  companion,  shovelling 
(for  no  other  word  could  express  her  gastronomic  gymnastics), 
with  the  whole  blade  of  her  knife,  "  the  loafly  onion  of  Spain  !'' 
into  her  capacious  mouth.  And  yet  he  felt  grateful  to  anything 
that  went  into  it,  inasmuch  as  that  it  prevented  the  horribly 
discordant  sounds  that  were  wont  to  issue  out  of  it.  For  among 
his  epicurean  sensitivenesses,  forced  and  stimulated  to  the  ut- 
termost, he  was  not,  of  course,  without  a  due  appreciation  of 
that  most  paramount  and  magnetic  of  all  psychological  spells, 
a  sweet  voice  ;  fresh,  too,  from  Edith,  who,  had  she  been  hideous, 
instead  of  "  passing  fair,"  had  still  a  voice  with  whose  sole,  yet 
concrete  witchery,  she  might  have  wooed  and  won  a  world ; 
for  to  its  gentle,  silvery,  ever-varying,  yet  always  perfectly  m.o- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  229 

diilated  inflections,  even  the  world-wide  fame  of  Cleopatra's  must 
have  been  second.  Then,  too,  the  whole  entourage  was  so  coarse, 
so  vulgar,  so  material;  for  it  matters  httle  whether  the  shrine  be 
of  common  clay,  or  of  gilded  marble,  it  is  the  presiding  divinity 
who  debases  or  exalts  it.  Put  an  elegant  and  refined  woman 
in  the  highest  garret,  or  the  lowest  cellar,  and  there  will  still  be 
a  subtle  and  purifying  atmosphere  of  spiritual  superiority,  ris- 
ing beyond  and  dominating  the  worst  meannesses  of  locahty. 
"Whereas,  place  a  vulgar  and  common-place  one  in  the  Palace 
of  the  Genii,  surrounded  by  sybarite  etherealisms,  and  her  sole 
presence  will  rob  them  of  every  grace,  and  make  them  "  of  the 
earth,  earthy."  Even  Nature's  most  exquisite  of  all  poetry 
(after  her  starry  epics),  her  fugitive  pieces,  the  flowers  I — the 
vulgar  can  contrive  to  vulgarize,  for  who  has  not  seen  some 
bright  young  queenly  rose,  surrounded  by  her  fragrant  court  of 
pansies,  hehotropes,  myrtle,  and  mignonette,  democratically  ban- 
ished to  some  blue  mug !  or  yellow  jug  1  or  incarcerated  in  tor- 
turing perpendicularity  in  some  blue,  green,  or  lilac  hyacinth 
glass  ?  But  we  must  leave  the  flowers,  and  return  to  the  bulbs* 
After  having  discussed  the  "  loafly  onion  of  Spain ! "  Fraulein 
took  a  deep  draught  of  the  "loafly  beer  of  England." 

"  Ah  !  dat  is  so  goote  I  "  said  she,  laying  down  the  glass, 
and  drawing  a  long  breath  after  her  exertions. 

"  AYell,"  cried  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  pointing  with  his  pipe 
to  the  tin  cover  of  a  dish  that  had  not  yet  been  revealed,  but 
much  in  the  same  tone  of  mingled  wonder  and  curiosity  that  he 
would  have  pointed  to  one  of  Monsieur  Robin  the  conjuror's  tin 
pyramids,  and  asked  him  what  he  meant  to  do  next — "  what 
d — d  thing  have  you  got  under  there  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  dat  is  dogs  and  beans  f  but  I  shall  not  take  none,  for 
I  eat  so  much  to  my  dinnere  (I  am  so  ver  fond  of  dogs  and 
beans)  dat  I  quite  make  my  stomach  to  ache,  till  I  scream  wis 
de  pains,  and  I  robe,  and  robe,  and  was  oblige  to  take  de  oil  of 
de  cas — " 

*  Anglice,  ducks  and  peas. 


230  BEHIND    THE    SCEKESi 

"  There  !  there  !  for  heaven's  sake  !  that's  enough  !  "  cried 
her  companion,  first  stopping  his  ears,  and  then  dashing  the 
bowl  of  his  pipe  with  as  much  vengeance  on  the  hob  as  if  it  had 
been  the  brains  of  his  fair  German  friend. 

"  Real!}',  vone  vonld  tink,"  said  the  latter,  shrugging  her 
shoulders,  "  dat  you  groache*  me  de  littell  enjoyments  I  haves." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  replied  he,  with  a  responsive  shrug,  while 
he  refilled  his  pipe ;  "  but  when  you  have  finished  your  '  dogs 
and  beans,'  or  cats  and  cauhflowers,  or  any  other  little  culinary 
rarities  that  you  may  feel  inclined  to  discuss,  we  will  talk  about 
the  very  comfortable  and  highly  lucrative  engagement  I  have 
got  for  you  with  Mrs.  Piers  Moncton." 

"  Oh,  I  have  dones  now,"  said  Fraulein,  putting  back  her 
chair  in  a  retrograde  manner  as  she  rose  from,  the  table,  and 
making  her  sleeve  do  the  duty  of  a  napkin,  wiping  her  mouth 
across  it,  while  she  seized  a  fork,  and  compelled  it  to  perform 
little  amateur  experiments  in  dental  surgery,  not  usually  expect- 
ed from,  or  executed  by  similar  implements;  after  which,  she 
approached  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  inhaled  with  great  gusto  the 
fumes  of  his  meerschaum,  as  she  would  have  done  the  air  of  her 
native  hills,  and  then  put  her  arm  round  his  neck,  from  which 
he  recoiled  as  if  a  boa  constrictor  had  suddenly  paid  him  the 
same  little  friendly  attention. 

"There,  my  dear  Adelaida,"  said  he,  slij^ping  through  the 
coil,  and  then  rising,  in  order  to  place  a  chair  for  her  at  the  op- 
posite extremity  to  his  own.  "Sit  down;  it  is  bad  for  the  di- 
gestion to  move  about  immediately  after  eating;  so  for  the  next 
ten  minutes  consider  me,  '  Sir  Oracle,'  and  '  when  I  ope  my 
mouth  let  no  dog  bark,'  at  least  none  of  those  that  you  have 
been  eating,  and  as  for  the  beans,  I  am  Pythagorean  in  my 
principles  as  regards  them,  so  pray  '  breathe  not  their  name '  for 
the  future.  But  w^hat  is  much  more  germane,  if  less  German, 
to  the  matter,  is,  that  I  am  delighted  to  tell  you,  that  the  Para- 


Grud< 


isEHi'Ni)    TiiE    SCENES.  23t 

Site  of  Pennaiior  never  half  so  elTectually  succeeded  in  convinc- 
ino-  Sio-norGil  Bias  of  Santillane  that  he  was  the  ei^'hth  wonder 
of  the  world  !  as  I  have  in  making  that  little  fool  Mrs.  Moucton 
believe  that  you  ai-e;  and  upon  the  strength  of  it,  she  has  con- 
sented to  give  you  seventy  guineas  a  year ;  so  that  from  this 
out,  my  dear  Adelaida,  that  is  while  you  retain  her  situation,  I 
shaU  allow  you  only  £30  a  year,  which,  with  the  £70  you  will 
receive  from  lierj  wih  make  up  the  £100  a  year.  I  promised  to 
give  you  :  don't  you  see  ? " 

"  N'on  !■  non  !  dat  is  not  vair,  not  vot  you  promeese  me," 
cried  Fraulein,  rising  and  pacing  the  room  in  great  perturbation, 
as  she  tightly  folded  her  arms,  and  shook  her  elf  locks  like  an 
incipient  storm  to  and  fro.  "  You  tell  to  me  viist  dat  as  soon 
as  your  ole  relation  die,  you  shall  make  me  de  Frau  von  Ver- 
rars ;  and  ubon  dat,  I  consent  bevore  ban  to  pay  you  my  obe-- 
clience  as  a  vife, — I  stay  shut  up  in  de  house,  in  de  ole  gown 
just  like  von  English  vife,  vile  you  go  about  every  vere,  voryour 
23leasure,  like  de  English  husband.  Moreover,  I  clean  your 
meerschaum,  translate  all  your  vine  ting  from  de  Garman,  knit 
you  stockings  vich  you  never  vear,  and  make  you  loafly  cab- 
bage soup  vich  you  nevare  eat ;  like  de  goot  German  vife ;  and 
for  all  dis,  to  be  vife,  and  no  vife,  you  give  to  me  von  hondert 
pounds  a  year  1  first  breaking  de  income  tax  off  of  him  !  and  I 
try  hard  to  live  on  him  in  your  dear  country,  and  to  send  somes 
out  of  him  to  my  poor  mooter  1  who  tink  I  am  de  rich  Frau 
von  Veri'ars;  and  now  because  I  get  place  to  zlave  myself  as 
governess,  and  be  your  zpy  to  tell  you  all  dat  go  on  in  dis 
Meesse  Moncton's  house,  you  vant  to  cheat  me  out  of  seventy 
pound  year!  You  are  bad,  bad  man;  I  bel-lieve  you  to  be 
all  lie,  all  cheat !  I  don't  tink  you  have  got  no  ole  voman  going 
to  die,  and  to  leaves  you  monies  ;  ai\d  if  she  did,  lam  sure  you 
vould  sbend  it  all  on  de  vorship  ove  yourselves,  and  vould  never 
give  to  me  von  kreutzer,  or  even  make  me  de  Frau  von  Verrars  ; 
but  I  shall  stay  here ;  I  vill  not  go  and  be  governess  to  nobo^ 
dy!" 


232  BEHIND    THE    SCENEis. 

"  Very  well,  madame,"  said  her  auditor,  in  his  turn  rising 
and  folding  his  arms,  "  stay  here  and  starve  1  You  cannot  be 
such  a  fool  as  not  to  know  that  you  are  completely  in  my 
power,  and  that  consequently  your  means  of  subsistence  depend 
wholly  and  solely  upon  my  will  and  pleasure.  Dare  to  thwart 
me  but  in  the  smallest  degree  1  and  not  another  sou  shall  you 
ever  receive  from  me  ;  and  decidedly  your  heauty  !  will  not  be 
likely  to  procure  you  more  from  any  other  source." 

Stung  to  madness  by  the  cowardly,  cold-blooded  villainy  of 
this  fiendlike  threat,  the  big  tears  now  rolled'  down  the  poor 
German  girl's  pale  cheeks,  made  paler  by  many  a  prolonged 
vigil  at  the  oar  of  her  destroyer's  literary  galley,  at  which  he 
had  branded  and  chained  her. 

"  Non  !  non !  I  vill  not  starve  to  please  you  ! "  she  cried, 
with  fearful  energy,  her  eyes  glaring  wildly,  and  lit  up  by  the 
red  glow  of  two  crimson  spots  that  had  suddenly  burst  out  like 
two  bude  lights  on  the  high  summit  of  each  cheekbone ; — "  I 
have  slave  hard  for  you,  to  destroy  myself,  I  vill  now  slave 
though  not  zo  hard,  to  zave  and  subbort  myself  and  my  moo- 
ter, my  poor  mooter  ! " 

And  here  the  poor  creature  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  natural 
tears,  which  for  a  moment  fell  like  a  refreshing  shower  upon  the 
parched  and  arid  desolation  of  her  supernatural  excitement. 

"  And  pray,  madam,"  said  her  inhuman  betrayer,  with  the 
look  and  in  the  withering,  mocking  tone  of  a  fiend,  "  who  do 
you  think  will  be  likely  to  engage  my  cast-ofF  mistress  for  a 
governess,  when  once  that  fact  is  publicly  known — as  I  will 
take  care  it  shall  be  ? " 

"  Non,  non ! "  almost  shrieked  the  unhappy  girl, — "  I  am  not 
your  mistresses,  vor  you  promise,  you  zwear  by  all  dat  is  zacred  in 
heaven  and  earts  dat  you  make  your  vifes  of  me." 

"  And  a  pretty  fool  you  must  have  been !  not  to  know  that 
when  a  man  of  my  rank  talks  of  love  to  a  woman  of  yours,  such 
promises  are  nothing  more  than  the  simulated  base  coin  of  sterling 
proposals,  which  pass  admij-ably  in  the  mart  of  seduction  for 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  233 

the  purchase  of  light  merchandize;  therefore,  of  course  you 
knew,  my  dear,"  added  he  with  infernal  irony  and  sang  froid, 
'•  that  I  merely  intended  to  seduce  you." 

His  wretched  companion  stopped  suddenly  sliort  in  her 
hurried  and  excited  pacing  to  and  fro,  and  elongating  her  arms 
as  she  dug  her  nails  into  the  palm  of  each  hand  with  a  sort  of 
spasmodic  convulsion,  looked  almost  handsome  from  the  in- 
spired flash  of  honest  indignation,  which  ht  up  her  whole  being', 
limbs,  as  well  as  features;  notwithstanding  the  almost  maniac 
mixture  of  the  ludicrous,  and  the  horrible,  in  her  words,  as  she 
hissed  out  through  her  set  teeth — 

"  Man  teijle  !  it  is  false,  false  as  hell  I  or  as  yoii,,  vich  is  de 
same  ting ; — how  should  I  know  you  only  mean  to  seduce  me  ? 
— I  nevere  vos  seduce  before !  No  von  ever  speak  to  me  of 
loaf  MW  you  come  vid  de  'Rohler'  under  von  arm,  and  de 
whole  of  de  '  Piccolomini '  under  de  oder  ;  and  ven  I  ask  you 
vot  you  pay  me  for  de  translation,  you  tell  to  me  dat  ve  most 
not  talk  of  de  nasty  money,  dat  you  loafs  me  to  distractions  1 
Oh  !  yes,  dat  vas  true,  at  all  events ;  for  de  distractions  is  come, 
but  it  is  to  me.  You  talk  dis  loaf  to  me  day  after  day,  for 
twelvemont,  till  I  vinish  to  translate  Schiller  vor  you ;  you  tell 
to  me  I  shall  be  de  Frau  von  Verrars,  but  dat  it  cannot  be  till 
your  ole  relation  die,  but  you  shall  give  to  me  till  den  von  hon- 
dret  a  year.  I  tink  of  my  poor  mooter  wis  scarce  as  many  tha- 
iers  at  Manheim,  and  I  fall  into  your  vile  guet-a-pens !  Now, 
indeed,  I  onderstan  vot  it  is  to  be  fool  I  It  is  to  believe  dat  de 
fine  gentlemans  vould  be  ashame  before  men  to  tell  lies,  and 
afraids  before  God  to  break  his  oats  (oaths) ;  but  from  dis  hour 
I  know  and  I  despise  you — great  man  as  you  tink  yourself!  and 
poor  Garman  girl  as  you  tink  me?  but  I  shall" — 

Here  she  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  return  of  the  red- 
haired  nymph  with  the  brandy.  The  name  of  this  Hebo  was 
Caroline  ;  but  Fraulein  had  condensed  and  travestied  it  into  the 
afiectionate  diminutive  and  incognita  of  "CorryI"  So  now 
turning  to  her,  with  her  sobbing  voice  and  swollen  eyes,  she  hastily 
vociferated. 


234  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Corry !  you  get  for  me  von  cab  dis  minute — I  leave  dis 
house  directly — I  take  myselfs  avay  now  dis  instant ! " 

The  frightened  handmaiden,  whose  ardent  locks  actu- 
ally appeared  to  grow  redder  under  excitement,  now  looked 
hurriedly  from  her  soi-disant  mistress  to  her  real  master,  where- 
upon the  latter,  in  his  usual  dictatorial  tone,  thundered  out — 

"At  your  peril,  presume  to  do  any  thing  of  the  kind  !  Leave 
the  room ! " 

And  Cony,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  flying  before  him  as 
dust  does  before  a  March  wind,  vanished  instantly, — only  too 
happy  to  have  his  fiatical  w^arrant  for  her  exit ;  while  he  seized 
the  poker  by  the  centre,  and  with  its  top  knocked  the  neck  off 
the  bottle  of  cognac ;  after  which  he  poured  out  and  drank  at 
a  drauo-ht,  half  a  tumbler  of  that  mild  and  soothino-  beverao-e ! 
But  to  do  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  justice, — exclusive  of  the  de- 
rangement that  all  violent  excitement  occasions  to  the  nervous 
sj^stem,  and  to  the  digestive  organs,  and  independent  of  his 
mascuhne  horror  of  scenes  in  general ;  and  his  peculiar  the- 
ories, and  practice,  of  a  piano,  and  languid  deportment,  as  the 
distinguishing  mark  of  a  fine  gentleman,  and  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  fatuities  about  town, — he  had,  in  common  v.-itli  other 
wild  beasts  and  birds  of  prey,  a  decided  partialit}^  for  luring  his 
victims  by  the  suave  blandishments  of  treachery,  rather  than 
seizing  upon  them  by  the  open  powers  of  violence ;  therefore, 
whenever  the  raging  devil  within  him  rose  rampant  to  the  sur- 
face, and  wagged  its  head  out  of  his  eyes,  and  lashed  its  tail 
through  his  mouth, — no  sooner  did  reflection  give  him  time  to 
summon  his  constant  Sbirri,  Caution  and  Hypocrisy,  than  he 
sent  it  "  down,  down  to  hell ! "  again,  pacifying  it  with  a  sop  of 
promised  future  triumph;  so  that  now,  having  replaced  the 
empty  glass  upon  the  table,  drained  as  it  was  to  the  last  drop, 
he  shifted  his  ground,  and  changed  his  tactics  ;  for,  approach- 
ing his  victim,  and  attempting  to  encircle  her  waist  with  his 
arm,  which,  however,  she  avoided  by  bounding,  as  if  she  had 
been  galvanized,  to  the  other  end  of  the  room — - 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  235 

"  My  dearest  Adelaida,"  said  he,  in  his  softest  and  most 
penitential  voice,  impiously  joining  his  hands  as  if  in  prayer, 
"  forgive  me,  pray  forgive  me !  I  did  not  mean  one  word  of 
all  I  said  to  my  own  little  wifey ;  but  women  are  so  d — d  pro- 
voking, and  do  say  such  cutting  things,  that  they  quite  madden 
one ;  and  when  you  doubted  my  honour !  and  above  all  my 
love !  for  you,  I  was  stung  into  saying  all  those  bitter  words 
which  only  came  from  my  lips,  but  never  from  my  heart." 

"Xon  !  "  broke  in  the  still  indio-nant  thouo'h  m-aduallv  soft- 
ening  Adelaide,  "because  I  believe  you  have  not  got  no  heart 
for  notink  to  coame  from." 

"  Ungrateful  girl ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  throw- 
ing up  his  eyes,  his  right  arm  springing  up  after  them,  as  if  im- 
pelled by  machinery,  while  his  whole  tone  and  manner  were 
those  of  the  injured  and  despairing  lover,  as  the  part  is  miscon- 
ceived and  misrepresented  at  minor  theatres,  "  is  this  the  return 
you  make  me,"  he  continued,  "  for  having  sacrificed  my  youth  ! 
my  hopes  !  my  ambition  !  my  all !  at  the  shrine  of  love  ? — for 
once  our  intended  marriage  known  (and  do  I  not  run  the  con- 
stant risk  of  having  my  visits  to  you  discovered),  all  my  expec- 
tations from  my  aunt  are  at  an  end,  and  yet  you  can,  after  such 
self-sacrifice  and  devotion  on  my  part,  thus  coolly,  thus  heartlessly 
throw  me  off!" 

The  poor  bewildered  girl  looked  up  through  her  tears.  She 
had  heard  a  hurricane  of  fine  words,  uttered  in  an  impassioned 
manner,  in  a  language  which  she  understood  but  very  imper- 
fectly, and  she  did  not  know  what  to  believe  :  so  like  most 
women  in  a  similar  dilemma,  she  set  reason  at  defiance,  and 
tried  to  believe  what  she  wished. 

"I  trow  you  off"!  non  !  non  ! — is  it  possibles,  den,  dat  after 
all  you  loaf  me  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  can  doubt  it  ? " 

"  Ah !  but  what  for  den  you  say  to  me  such  cruel,  such 
vicked  ting  ? " 

"  Why  did  you,  dearest  Adelaida,  goad  me  into  madness 
by  saying  such  bitter,  such  unjust  things  ?  " 


236  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Non  !  not  unjust ;  for  you  tiy  to  take  from  me  vot  you 
promise  to  me,  and  vot  I  vork  ver  hard  for,  and  vot  I  Lope  to 
lay  by  for  a  provisions  for  my  poor  mooter  at  de  end  of  her 
days.  Ah  !  it  is  ver  bad,  ver  ladre  dat,  it  is  not  loaf  dat — oh, 
no,  it  is  not  loaf  ;  loaf  give  all,  but  you  take  all.  Non,  non  ! 
I  have  dream,  but  now  I  waken ;  it  is  not  loaf,  dere  is  no  loaf, 
dere  never  was  no  loaf,  and  I  may  trow  myself  to  de  Thames 
venever  I  please." 

Critical  as  the  crisis  was,  her  heartless  companion  could  not 
resist  indulging  in  his  idea  of  a  jest,,  so  he  said — 

"  Pray  don't,  for  only  think  how  it  would  frighten  the  fish  !" 

" Vot  you  mean  by  frighten  the  vishV  cried  she,  glaring 
at  him,  exasperated  at  the  vague  suspicion  she  had,  that  he  was 
tui-ning  her  misery  into  ridicule. 

"  That  is  an  English  idiom,  my  own  love,"  said  the  monster, 
"  which  means  that  you  would  commit  murder  as  well  as 
suicide  ;  for  you  do  not  suppose  I  could  live  an  hour  after 
you  ?  " 

She  groaned,  and  shook  her  head  incredulously,  as  she  sent 
an  electric  telegraph  message  through  all  the  long  vistas  of  her 
memory,  demanding  a  return  of  the  names  of  bad  men  who 
had  nevertheless  had  the  one  virtue  of  loving,  and  that  deeply 
and  sincerely  :  foremost  on  the  list  was  Nero,  and  his  infatua- 
tion for  Poppsea ;  Caligula,  and  his  devotion  to  Csesonia ;  wind- 
ing up  with  Harry  the  Eighth,  whom  death  cut  off  before  he 
had  time  to  cut  off  Catherine  Parrs  head,  and  whom  therefore 
history  kindly  assumes  that  he  loved.  Though  not  exactly 
aware  that  she  was  trying  him  by  his  peers,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars  saw  that  she  was  deliberating  about  something ;  and  as  we 
generally  judge  others  by  ourselves,  he  concluded  that  that 
something  was  money  ;  so  resuming  his  contrite  and  concilia- 
tory tone,  he  said — 

"Now,  my  dearest  love,  with  regard  to  that  paltry  money, 
which  was  the  origin  of  all  this,  as  indeed  it  generally  is  the 
root  of  all  evil,  I  have  peculiar  and  tenacious  prejudices  about 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  237 

monetary  transactions  between  man  and  wife,  in  which  light  we 
may  consider  oui*selves ;  that  is,  I  hate  and  detest  the  separa- 
tion and  limitation  (!)  of  allowances,  and  pin  money,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing  ;  for  where  there  is  but  one  heart,  so  should 
there  be  but  one  purse,*  and  all  I  meant  was,  that  as  I  was 
devilish  hard  up  just  now,  I  would  merely  give  you  £30  a-year 
during  the  time  you  were  with  Mi's.  Moncton,  thereby  consider- 
ing that  my  own  Adelaida  gave  me  £10,  of  which  I  happened 
to  be  in  want,  reserving  to  myself  the  future  far  greater  satis- 
faction of  giving  her  (when  my  coffers  were  better  replenished) 
a  much  larger  sum,  without  limit  or  stipulation." 

"  Ah  !  if  you  had  but  say  so  to  me  at  first,"  sobbed  the  poor 
girl,  still  half  bewildered  from  the  stunning  villany  of  his  former 
threats,  and  staring  wildly  around  her,  to  try  and  anchor  her 
aching  eyes  and  senses  upon  the  solid  basis  of  some  reality, 
"  you  know  ver  well  I  do  not  desire  better  den  to  give  you  alls 
I  could,  but  dat  is  ver  different  from  de  cruel  ting  you  say  to 
me  before,  and  I  do  fear  dat  as  in  wines,  so  in  de  passion,  men 
speak  de  trute,  and  dat  vot  you  say  to  me  now  is  only  de  ritse, 
de  manoeuvre  de  chicane.''^ 

"  Adelaida !  "  cried  he,  flinging  himself  on  his  knees  before 
her,  and  seizing  both  her  hands,  which  she  vainly  struggled  to 
get  away  from  him,  "  I  swear  to  you  by — 

"  Xon  !  non  !  " — said  she'  interrupting  him — "  do  not  swear ; 
I  hate  swear,  and  you  have  broken  my  hearts,  so  it  cannot  hold 
any  more  of  your  promise." 

Here  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  who  had  regained  his  feet, 
made  another  abortive  attempt  to  embrace  her,  and  in  the 
struggle  pushed  down  a  piece  of  Berlin  work  that  was  covering 
a  small  bird-cage  that  hung  in  the  window,  tenanted  by  a 
starling,  which  had  travelled  with  its  mistress  all  the  way  from 
Manheim. 

*  Which  of  course  the  man  should  keep  to  himself  intact,  without 
the  woman  ever  presuming  to  infringe  upon  it,  thought  Mr,  Punsonby 
Ferrars,  though  it  did  not  at  this  moment  suit  his  purpose  to  say  so. 


2-38  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

''  Leave  me  alone,"  said  Fraulein  repulsing  him — "  I  cannot 
forget." 

Thus  disturbed,  and  seeing  the  lights  which  he  mistook  for 
the  sun,  the  starling,  as  if  in  an  admonitory  endorsement  of  her 
assertion,  broke  in  with  a  loud,  "  Vergiss  mein  nicht!"  * 

"  Ah  ! "  half  shrieked  his  mistress,  "  it  is  as  ifs  my  poor 
mooter  spoke  to  me,  for  she  taught  you  dat !  Non,  my  poor 
leetel  freins,  I  shall  not  forgets — nor  forget  you."  And  she  sank 
into  an  arm-chair,  in  such  a  paroxysm  of  hysterics,  that  it  ended  in 
a  dead  swoon.  Now  it  was,  that  her  companion  being  left  alone, 
took  counsel  of  his  familiar ;  he  looked  at  his  victim  for  a  few 
seconds  with  a  conflicting  expression  of  resolution  and  irresolu- 
tion ;  that  is,  he  had  evidently  resolved  upon  the  execution  of 
some  still  darker  villainy,  yet  was  irresolute  as  to  the  mode  of 
executing  it;  he  mechanically  put  his  hands  simultaneously 
into  each  of  his  waistcoat  pockets  in  quest  of  something,  which 
apparently  not  finding,  he  muttered — 

"D — n  it,  I've  left  it  at  home."  After  which,  looking 
furtively  round  the  room,  a  sort  of  fiendish  joy  lit  up  his  ghastly 
features,  as  upon  the  mantelpiece  he  descried  a  small  purple 
morocco  homoeopathic  medicine-case  containing  about  two 
dozen  Lilliputian  phials,  of  wonderful  antidotes,  but  at  the  same 
time  subtle  poisons.  He  seized  it,  and  as  he  did  so,  while 
selecting  one  from  the  most  deadly  of  its  contents,  the  train  of 
thought  which  passed  through  his  mind  was  this — he  tightly 
closing  his  right  eye  the  while,  and  with  the  forefinger  of  his 
right  hand  deliberately,  at  measured  intervals,  counting  upon  the 
first,  second,  and  third  fingers  of  his  left  hand,  as  if  he  had  been 
dissecting  a  syllogism  preliminary  to  pronouncing  the  conclusive 
probatum  est,  or  Q.  E.  D. — 

"  The  devil  of  it  is,  that  a  sudden  death  entails  an  inquest ; 
and  then,  my  liaison  with  her  would  come  out — and  that  would 
never  do  just  at  this  moment ;  but,  no  ;  what  a  fool  I  am  ! — 

*  Forget  me  not. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  239 

all  that  can  be  easily  arraDged  :  Blackiswhite,  of  '  The  Morning 
Puff,'  and  Taurus,  of  '  The  Jack  Ass,'  will  insert  anything  I 
please  ;  and  a  strong  equinoctial  puff  in  both  the  morning  and 
evening  papers,  with  a  pasquinade  compliment,  which  Carlo 
Dials  can  get  paid  me  in  next  Wednesday's  '  Judy,'  about  my 
benevolent  and  generous  Hterary  patronage  of  this  poor  young- 
German  girl,  and  my  kind  exertions  to  get  her  a  situation  with 
Mrs.  Moncton,  coupled  with  the  strong  prima  facire  evidence  of 
her  ugliness,  will  soon  lay  that  phantom,  and  put  the  sapient 
public  com2:»letely  on  a  wrong  scent.  A  glorious  thing,  the 
Press — certainly  !  at  least,  when  one's  of  it.  How  completely 
it  silenced  and  mystified  the  world,  and  how  cleverly  it  got 
Wober  out  of  that  murder  of  his  upon  Ormeton,  more  cleverly 
still  trying  to  blast  Mrs.  Wober's  character,  by  shifting  all  the 
odium  upon  her.  That  is  where  we  leviathans  of  the  Press  are 
so  masterly  in  always  crushing  the  victims,  and  erecting  a  pe- 
destal of  their  mutilated  remains  whereon  to  elevate  the  asfores- 
sor  beyond  justice  up  to  the  artificial  level  of  public  admiration  ! 
— Who  was  it  called  woman  '  a  beautiful  error  in  creation  ? ' " 
continued  he,  eyeing  the  still  inanimate  form  before  him — 
"  Well,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  error,  though  the  beauty 
is  sometimes  left  out ;  but  the  real  error  of  her  creation  is  her 
perpetuity ;  decidedly  she  should  have  ended  with  her  mission, 
which  is  to  please  in  whatever  shape  that  may  be,  whether  as 
a  monetary  medium  as  an  heiress,  or  as  one  of  enchantment  as 
a  houri,  or  even  as  a  useful  drudge,  like  that  poor  wretch  there. 
But  when  she  ceases  to  please, — assuredly,  had  nature  been 
complete  in  her  conception,  she  would  have  so  organized  her, 
that  she  should  cease  to  exist.  What  a  devil  of  a  bore  it  would 
be  if  all  our  pleasures  were  permitted  to  haunt  us  de  jure  !  for 
ever  after  we  had  dismissed  them  de  facto.  Shade  of  Apicius  ! 
what  theoretical  indigestions  one  would  have  of  long  discussed 
salmis,  and  hecatombs  of  truflfles  ! — what  bottle  imps  would 
haunt  one  whose  spirit  had  long  since  fled ! — in  short,  far  worse 
than  the  skeleton  of  the  Egyptians  at  their  banquets,  Belshaz- 


240  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

zar  would  have  to  give  us  the  wall,  for  we  should  have  a  '  Mene 
Tekel  Upharsin  '  engraved  with  our  armorial  bearings  upon 
every  dish  ! " 

"  Well,  now,  let  me  see,  which  of  these  ?  "  and  he  held  the 
label  of  one  small  bottle  after  another  to  the  light,  murmuring 
their  names — "  pulsatilla,  brionia,  nux-vomica,"  till  he  came  to 
"  belladonna,"  which  latter  he  replaced  with  a  demoniac  sneer, 
muttering — 

'•  Scarcely ;  for  the  homoeopathic  principle  is  like  to  like ; 
it  would  be  a  sort  of  mauvaise  plaisanterie  unbefitting  the  so- 
lemnity of  the  occasion.  Ah  !  come,  this  is  better — '  Aconite ; ' 
now  for  the  denouement ;  a  plot  is  no  plot  unless  it  is  natu- 
rally, as  well  as  graphically  worked  up.  Yes,  tliat  is  it.  When 
I  have  given  her  half  of  this  bottle,  though  a  quarter  would  do 
the  business,  I  must  leave  the  phial  in  her  hand,  the  grasp  of 
death  is  a  tight  one  ;  she  will  not  be  likely  to  drop  it ;  then  I 
must  burn  all  her  letters,  lest  anything  in  them  should  transpire 
to  criminate  me ;  when  I  say  all,  not  those  of  Professor  Grun- 
tandstern,  praising  my  kindness  in  endeavouring  to  get  her  a 
governess's  place,  and  lauding  my  German  translations  to  the 
skies — those  she  keeps  tied  with  a  piece  of  blue  ribbon.  Ah  ! 
by  Jove,  well  thought  of;  I  must  see  that  the  desk  is  there,  it 
would  be  too  unlucky  if  she  should  have  packed  it  up  ?  "  And 
he  took  one  of  the  candles,  and  noiselessly  opened  the  folding- 
door  leading  to  the  other  room ;  there  he  found  the  desk  with 
the  key  in  it ;  he  seized  it,  and  having  brought  it  into  the  sup- 
per-room, and  replaced  the  light  on  the  table,  he  actually 
hugged  himself  (or  perhaps  it  was  his  interior  friend)  with  de- 
hght  at  his  success.  "Now,"  thought  he,  "for  the  final  touch, 
I  must  ring  as  if  the  house  was  on  fire  (after  I  have  given  it  to 
her),  for  that  d — d  ugly  red-haired  maid,  who  must  find  me 
tearing  my  hair  like  a  madman,  I  must  tell  her  to  go  instantly 
for  all  the  doctors  in  the  place  ;  for  that  her  ipisfress  has 
poisoned  herself  by  taking  an  over  dose  of  aconite ;  that  she 
was  in  such  spirits  at  the  idea  of  Mrs.  Moncton  having  en- 


BEHIN13    THE    SCENES.  241 

^ged  her,  that  she  was  laughing  and  talking  after  supper,  and 
not  looking  at  the  quantity  of  globules  she  was  letting  drop 
into  the  six  dessert  spoonfuls  of  water  she  had  measured  out ; 
that  I  cned  out  in  horror  to  her  not  to  drink  it ;  but  before  I 
could  get  across  the  room  to  snatch  the  glass  out  of  her  hand, 
she  had  swallowed  the  greater  part  of  the  <3ontents — the  rest  I 
must  carefully  leave  in  the  glass  to  be  analysed  ;  and  this  story  I 
must  get  the  girl  to  listen  to,  that  she  may  give  it  in  her  evi- 
dence, as  it  is  the  one  I  mean  to  stick  to  with  the  doctors ;  and 
while  she  is  gone  for  them,  I  can  burn  the  letters.  Yes,  that's 
it.  Now^  for  it ! "  continued  he,  looking  nervously  round  the 
room,  and  his  hand  trembling  in  spite  of  himself,  as  he  poured 
out  more  than  half  the  contents  of  the  phial  of  aconite  into 
about  a  wine-glassful  of  water,  which  he  carefully  measured  by 
spoonfuls,  thoroughly  dissolving  the  whole  in  a  tumbler.  "  If 
I  can  but  only  pour  it  down  her  throat,  without  rousing  her ! " 
and  once  more  he  looked  fearfully  round  the  small  room,  filled 
with  false  shadows  from  the  long  wicks  of  the  candles.  "  Tush  I 
what  a  fool  I  am  ! "  added  he,  pouring  out  some  more  brandy 
and  drinking  it  off.  "  I  am  not  a  dog,  that  I  should  be  fright- 
ened at  shadows ;  and  my  position  in  the  world  ;  my  apparent 
despair !  my  instantly  sending  for  medical  advice  ;  and  my  fear- 
lessly giving  up  the  remainder  of  the  glass  to  be  analysed — 
must  and  will  ward  off  everything  like  suspicion  from  me  ;  no 
one  can  see  me — no  one  is  here  to  " — 

"Vergiss  mein  nicht ! "  screamed  the  starling,  who  had 
hitherto  watched  his  proceedings  in  silence,  turning  its  head 
from  one  side  to  the  other,  after  the  manner  of  birds ;  and  who 
now  uttered  these  sounds  in  such  a  shrill  and  piercing  voice, 
accompanied  by  a  flapping  of  his  wings,  that  the  glass  fell  from 
the  trembhng  hand  of  the  intended  murderer  and,  shivered  into 
a  thousand  fragments  at  his  feet. 

These  combined  noises  restored  the  suspended  animation  of 
Adelaida,  who  little  dreamt  of  the  fate  she  had  so  naiTowly  es- 
caped. At  the  sight  of  her  returning  senses,  and  the  conse- 
11 


242  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

quent  defeat  of  his  scheme,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
say  to  what  depth  of  the  infernal  regions  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars 
consigned  the  poor  starling;  for  like  all  those  who  have  little 
faith  in,  or  allegiance  to  God,  he  had  the  widest  possible  belief 
in  the  existence  and  potent  influence  of  devils  ;  being  learned 
to  a  degree  in  daemonology,  having  Peter  Thyrarus  the  Jesuit's 
tract,  "  De  Locis  Infestis,"  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  Sigismuudus 
Scheretzius  '*  Lile  de  Spectris"  by  heart ;  so  that  he  held  with 
Paracelsus  and  Cardan,  that  there  were  Foliots,  Lares,  TruUi, 
and  other  imps,  who  batten  on  bad  dead  men's  souls,  and  who, 
by  their  nocturnal  noises,  when  assuming  the  shape  of  birds, 
dogs,  and  other  animals,  scare  and  cheat  living  sinners  out  of 
their  revenge.  One  of  these,  in  his  frustrated  bewilderment,  he 
now  fully  beheved  the  starling  to  be ;  and  certain  it  is  that  the 
ghost  of  CaHgula,  which,  according  to  Suetonius,  used  to  walk 
in  Lavinia's  garden,  where  his  body  was  buried,  never  appalled 
her  affrighted  slaves  half  so  much  as  the  small,  quick,  bright, 
black  eyes  of  that  little  bird,  now  peeping  in  and  out  through 
his  rus  in  urhe  of  groundsel,  did  this  "  clever  man,"  one  of 
whose  clever  plots  its  overlooked  insignificance  had  caused  the 
subversion  of. 

"  Vere  am  I  ?  Vot  am  I  ?  "  said  Fraulein,  trying  to  recol- 
lect herself. 

"  Unfortunately,  wide  awake,"  muttered  her  companion. 

"  Vot  is  dis  ?  "  continued  she,  looking  with  a  sort  of  half 
conscious  interrogation  at  the  small  phial  of  aconite  that  had 
been  placed  in  her  hand.  "  Ah  !  mine  Goat !  I  have  no  take  all 
dis,  surely  ! "  cried  she,  eyeing  with  consternation  its  greatly  di- 
minished contents ;  "  I  have  not  take  all  dis ;  if  I  have  I  am 
deads ! " 

"  No;  yo*i  would  have  done  so, 'though,  but  for  that  dam — 
ahem — dear  bird.  Adelaida,  my  dearest  love,  you  really  must 
go  to  bed  ;  you  are  not  well,  and  if  you  don't  take  care  of  your- 
self you  won't  be  able  to  go  to  Mrs.  Moncton's  next  week ;  and 
think  what  a  sad  thing  that  would  be  for  you,  for  me,  for 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  243 

your  poor  mother ;  for  are  we  uot  all  one  family,  my  own 
love  ?  " 

"  Your  own  loaf  ?  "  murmured  slie,  looking  vacantly  up  in  his 
face,  as  the  words  fell  upon  her  ear  ;  and  then  she  added,  "  Non, 
non,  I  am  not  dying,  you  need  not  look  so  fright ;  de  big  drops 
roll  from  your  forehead,  and  yet  your  hand  he  is  colder  den 
mine  !"  said  she,  laying  hers  upon  it. 

"  Dying  !     No,  my  dear  Adelaida,  no  fear  of  that ! 

"  '  Qui  cupit  optatum  cursu  contingere  metam, 
Multa  tulit  fecitque  puer,  sudavit  et  alsit,* " 

muttered  he,  aside ;  and  at  the  same  time  giving  a  hasty  kick  to 
the  fragments  of  the  broken  glass  which  had  contained  the 
aconite.  He  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  a  black  substance,  that 
emitted  divers  coruscations,  twined  itself  round  his  ancle. 

"  Heavens  !  what  is  that  ? "  exclaimed  he,  starting  back  as 
if  the  fell  fiend  already  held  him  in  his  grasp.  It  was  only  a 
black  cat,  which  had  been  sleeping  under  the  sofa,  and  which 
bad  seemingly  been  driven  thence  by  thirst,  for  it  now  began 
lapping  up  the  small  pool  of  aconite  that  was  slowly  being  ab- 
sorbed by  the  carpet ;  and  while  the  httle  victim,  "  regardless 
of  its  doom,"  was  thus  employed,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was 
equally  busy  in  contradicting  the  disjointed  testimony  of  his 
"  dearest  Adelaida's"  returning  senses,  as  to  the  conversation 
that  had  taken  place  between  them,  prior  to  her  swoon ;  and 
finally  succeeded  in  persuading  her  that  she  had  dreamt  it  all ; 
that  they  never  had  had  a  dispute  about  anything,  and  least  of 
all  about  money — for  what  did  he  care  for  money,  unless  it  was 
to  lavish  it  upon  her  ? 

"  But  vot  I  do  wid  all  dese  medicines,  and  wid  dis  bottel  I 
hold  in  my  hands?  "  asked  she,  still  doubtingly. 

"  Ah  !  there  it  is,"  replied  he  ;  "  when  you  were  first  taken 
ill,  which  I  attribute  entirely  to  the  d — d  sort  of  suppers  you 
eat,  I  wanted  to  send  oflf  for  a  doctor  ;  you  would  not  let  me  ; 
but  with  that  inveterate  obstinacy  (which,  I  must  say,  is  the 
only  thing  approximating  to  a  fault  in  my  little  loife's  charac- 


244  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ter)  would  insist  upon  doctoring  yourself,  and  in  your  confusion, 
when  that  fainting  fit  was  stealing  over  you,  you  mixed  nearly 
half  that  bottle  of  aconite,  which  would  Lave  instantaneously 
caused  your  death,  had  I  not,  in  an  agony,  wrested  the  tumbler 
from  your  hand ;  in  the  struggle  it  fell,  and  was  broken  to 
atoms,  but  as  you  swooned  before  I  had  well  snatched  the  poi- 
son from  you,  you  retained  the  phial  firmly  in  your  grasp,*  and 
my  frantic  despair  at  fancying  you  were  really  dead  when  you 
fainted,  and  the  shrill  cries  of  that  poor  bird,  which  I  shall  al- 
ways love  for  it,  brought  you  to." 

"  Tank  you,  mine  friens,  tank  you,"  said  poor  Fraulein, 
stretching  out  her  hand  to  him,  accompanied  by  a  large  flabby 
look,  meant  to  be  extremely  tender,  but  which,  from  the  uncon- 
genial form  and  colour  of  her  eyes,  would  have  been  extremely 
ludicrous,  had  it  not  been  extremely  horrible  !  nor  was  a  suitable 
accompaniment  wanting  to  it,  for  presently  the  poor  cat,  with 
the  most  piteous  and  unearthly  yells,  began  to  bound  and  dart 
about  the  room,  like  one  possessed. 

"  Ah  !  de  gat !  de  gat !  vot  has  he  got,  Tome,  Tome,  poor 
vellow  !  vot  is  de  matters  vis  you  ?  "  Thus  appealed  to,  the  poor 
animal  gave  one  supreme  yell,  and  then  sank  down  in  fearful 
convulsions,  its  green  eyes  rolling  like  two  meteoric  fires  in  all 
directions,  the  foam  gushing  out  of  its  mouth,  till  after  two  hard 
and  final  gasps,  the  poor  thing  was  released  from  its  terrific 
agonies  by  death. 

"  Ah !  mine  poor  Tome !  mine  poor  gat !  he  is  dead  ! "  cried 
Fraulein,  wringing  her  hands,  as  she  stooped  down  to  look  at 
him. 

"  My  dearest  love,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  in  his  softest 
voice,  as  he  drew  her  away  with  gentle  force  towards  the  sofa ; 
"  I  would  not  for  the  world,  at  such  a  moment,  upbraid  you,  or 
check  that  loveliest  attribute  of  woman,  pity ;  but,  for  the  sake 
of  preventing  future  evil,  I  must  impress  upon  you  the  fatal 

*  The  clever  man  forgot  that,  in  that  shadow  of  death — a  swoon, 
the  muscles  of  the  fingers  relax  mstead  of  close. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  245 

consequences  of  your  obstinacy,  in  not  allowing  me  to  send  for 
a  doctor,  and  insisting  upon  doctoring  yourself  ;  that  poor  ani- 
mal, of  whom  you  were  so  fond,  and  who  was  such  a  fitting 
companion  for  you,  has  fallen  a  victim  to  it,  by  lapping  the 
aconite  which  you  had  mixed,  and  which  I  let  fall  in  my  anxiety 
to  save  you  from  a  similar  fate.  True,  it  is  only  a  cat ;  but, 
Adelaida,  life  is  a  solemn  and  sacred  thing !  which  none  have  a 
right  to  take,  save  the  great  Being  who  bestows  it." 

Scarcely  had  he  concluded  this  fine  sentiment,  and  ibid  per- 
oration, which  he  was  well  aware  would  travel  to  Germany  by 
the  next  morning's  post,  and  figure  in  the  "  Augsberg  Gazette  " 
the  following  week,  as  an  anecdote  of  "  the  great  Ferrai-s  1 "  than 
Fraulein  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck  (and  considering  his 
revolting  hypocrisy,  the  punishment,  i\io\\g\i  frightful^  was  not 
too  great),  exclaiming  as  she  did  so, — 

"  Ah,  yes,  you  have  de  hearts,  de  vine,  nobel  hearts,  aftere 
all ;  nevere  again  vill  I  doubts  it.  And,  oh  !  how  prouds  I 
shall  be  ven  all  de  vorlds  shall  know  dat  I  am  de  Frau  Von 
Verrars  ! " 

As  "  he  that  consenteth  to  a  thief  is  worse  than  the  thief," 
so  the  accomphces  of  all  sins  are  perhaps  worse  than  their  origi- 
nator, and,  as  pride  is  a  vice,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars's  moral  per- 
ceptions (for  this  occasion  only)  were  too  nice  to  join  in  the  an- 
ticipated pride  of  this  misguided  young  person,  consequently  he 
renewed  his  entreaties  that  she  would  lose  no  time  in  seeking 
that  rest  of  which  she  evidently  stood  so  much  in  need,  promis- 
ing to  discuss  their  future  prospects  another  time,  and  something 
after  the  fashion  of  that  other  great  man.  Major  Longbow,  wdio 
when  his  wife  was  killed  by  a  cou}^  de  soldi,  while  sitting  at 
dinner,  records  that  with  infinite  promptitude  he  rang  for  the 
servant  to  bring  clean  glasses,  and  sweep  his  mistress  awa}^ 
He  then  rung  for  the  red-haired  maid  to  remove  the  remains  of 
poor  Grimalkin,  and  conduct  the  resuscitated  German  up-stairs. 
Having  taken  leave  of  her  in  the  most  affectionate  manner, 
especially  conjuring  her  to  fling  all  homceopathic  medicines  into 


240  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

the  fire,  adding  that  be  did  not  much  hke  even  leaving  her 
with  that  "  d — d  red  precipitate,"  as  he  allegorically  called  the 
brusque,  bouncing  maid  ;  but  Fraulein  having  assured  him  that 
"  CoRRY  "  was  very  attentive  to  her,  he  descended  the  narrow 
stairs  in  greater  haste  than  he  bad  ascended  them  some  three 
hours  before,  and,  as  he  slammed  to  the  ball-door  after  him,  the 
clock  of  a  neighbouring  church  struck  three.  Ob,  Chance  ! — 
thou  hood-winked  meter-out  of  this  world's  destinies,  ever  push- 
ing on  vice  and  folly  into  high  places  and  pleasant  paths,  and 
poking  poor  virtue  and  modest  merit  at  best  into  obscure  holes 
and  corners,  well  dost  thou  keep  tbe  unities  of  thy  promiscuous 
drama,  stepping  in  wbere  conscience  has  given  up  her  garrison, 
and  preventing  crimes  which  would  put  their  perpetrators  even 
beyond  thy  mighty  power  to  sbield  from  the  rarely  issued  vetos 
of  justice  ! 

On  !  on  !  through  the  gray  cold  gloom  of  expiring  night, 
stalked,  like  a  delegate  shadow  from  tbe  nether  powers,  tbe 
clever  man.  In  heaven,  as  on  earth,  tbe  struggle  was  progress- 
ing between  light  and  darkness.  Another  scion  of  eternity, 
another  day  was  gliding  from  nature's  lap,  with  life  for  its  play- 
thing !  and  death  for  its  lesson  !  and  that  it  did  not  dawn  upon 
another  murderer  was  again  thy  gyratory  work.  Oh,  Chance, 
thou  great  impenetrable  Incognito  of  God  ! 


SECTION  X. 

"  Cause  me  to  know  the  way  wherein  I  should  walk,  for  I  lift  up  my  soul  unto 
thee."— Ps.  cxiv.  S. 

"  Unto  the  upright  there  ariseth  light  in  the  darkness." — Ibid.  csii.  4. 
"  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  you,  that  he  might  sift  you  as  wheat :  but  I  have 
prayed  for  thee,  that  thy  faith  fail  not."— Luke  sxii.  31,  32. 
"  Oh !  what  may  man  within  him  hide, 
Though  angel  on  the  outward  side ! " 

SHAKSPEiEE. 

"  Seems  he  a  dove  ?  his  feathers  are  but  borrowed : 
For  he's  disposed  as  the  evil  raven." 


IMd, 


-"  Chlamydemque  ut  pendeat  apte 


CoUocat,  ut  limbus  totumque  appareat  aurum." 

Otid.  Met.  2. 


The  morning  after  Fraulein  Gotbekant's  narro^y  escape  of  going 
farther  without,  perhaps,  faring  worse,  the  sun — that  impartial 
and  very  worldly  luminary,  which  "  shines  alike  on  the  just  and 
on  the  unjust " — shot  a  timorous  ray  through  the  heavy  brown 
velvet  hangings,  fringed  with  gold,  on  the  carved  oak  book-cases 
and  bronze  busts  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  sitting-room  in  the 
Alban}^  while,  in  the  equally  large  and  still  more  luxuriantly- 
furnished  bed-room  annexed  to  it,  Clarke,  who,  all  his  lite,  had 
radiated  as  a  valet,  and  now  had  the  honour  of  acting  as  a  sort 
of  quotidian  Frankenstein  to  that  great  man,  and  constructing 
him  out  of  the  most  varied  and  incongruous  materials  for  as- 
tonishing the  world  !    was  drawing  aside,  with  his  left  hand, 


248  BEHIND    THE    SCENES; 

the  heavy  bed-curtains  of  crimson  Genoa  velvet,  h'ned  witfi 
richly  flowered  white  Lyons  damask,  while,  in  his  left,  he  held 
a  small  gilt  salver,  laden  with  letters,  notes,  and  newspapers. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  he,  in  reply  to  his  master's  anything 
hut  pious  exclamation  at  being  awakened,  "  but  you  particMar 
ordered,  when  you  came  home  this  morning,  that  I  was  not  ta 
let  you  sleep  a  minute  long-er  than  nine." 

"  Ob,  ah  !  H 1  and  the  D 1,  so  I  did  ! "  said  the 

other,  betw^een  the  interstices  of  a  yawn,  as  he  stretched  his  arms 
above  his  head,  flinging,  at  the  conclusion  of  this  movement,  his 
silk  empecinado  night-cap  in  Clarke's  face,  and  telling  him  to, 
bring  his  pipe,  as  he  snatched  the  letters  off"  the  salver,  and 
hastily  broke  the  seal  of  one  of  them,  and  as  hastily  tossed  it 
aside,  after  casting  his  eye  over  it. 

''You'll  excuse  me,  sir,  but  your  orders  was,  that  I  was  on 
no  account  to  let  any  tobacco  come  within  a  mile  of  you,  thi& 
morning,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  prepare  an  ammonia  warm 
bath,  and  a  Hydrahell  '^  douche  for  you,  both  of  which  is  ready,. 
sir." 

For  never  w^ere  Cleopatra,  Popp^ea,  Phryne,  or  Henry  the 
Third  of  France,  more  skilled  in  the  compounding  of,  or  ad- 
dicted to  the  use  of  cosmetics,  than  was  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
thinking,  no  doubt,  like  these  prototypes,  that  they  had  the 
power  of  varnishing  over  externally,  the  ravages  thai  vice  made 
internally. 

"Ah  !  true  again  ;   I  forgot.     Give  me ,"  addccd  he^ 

merely  pointing  to  a  small  gold  filigree  box  on  the  toilet — for 
he  seldom  wasted  more  breath  than  these  two  words  required, 
when  issuing  his  mandates — preferring  ta  do  so  pantomimically. 
The  box  contained  little  dark  tablets  of  some  fragrant  com- 
pounds for  warranting  the  breath,  and  establishing  an  alibi  for 
tobacco. 

"  Deuce  take  it,"  muttered  he,  as  he  put  one  or  two  of  them. 

^  Hydrome],  or  honey  and  water , 


BEHIND    TtlE    SCENES.  249 

into  his  mouth,  "  I  never  was  so  sleepy ;  and  then  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  creatures,  after  all  the  trouble  they  give  one :  how- 
ever, she  is  worth  it, — aye,  as  well  worth  it  as  Helen  was  worth 
the  Trojan  war:  if  indeed  any  woman  is  worth  a  ten  years' 
siege.     Presto !  we  manage  those  things  better  now-a-days ! 

Faugh !  I've  actually  got  the  taste  of  those  d d  onions  of 

last  night  still  in  my  mouth,  as  \dvidly  as  if  I  had  committed 
the  enormity  of  eating  them.  ISTo  wonder  that  squills  should 
prevent  the  attraction  of  the  magnet,  for  they  would  prevent 
the  attraction  of  Venus  herself.  Clarke,"  added  he,  aloud — for 
the  foregoing  soliloquy  had  been  a  mental  one — "I'll  do  my 
teeth  in  bed." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

And  this  human  electric  telegraph  disappeared,  and  almost 
instantaneously  re-appeared  from  the  dressing-room,  with  two 
fine  damask  napkins  slung  over  one  arm,  a  gold  basin  contain- 
ing within  it  two  gold  mugs,  one  filled  with  tepid  water,  and 
the  other  containino^  some  half-dozen  diff'erent-sized  sold-mount- 
ed  tooth-brushes,  a  small  phial  of  tincture  of  myrrh,  and  a  flask 
of  Arquebusade,  all  of  which  he  arranged  on  the  bed,  so  that 
his  master  should  have  hut  the  one  indispensable  trouble  of 
brushing  his  own  teeth,  for  even  one  of  the  napkins  he  tied  un- 
der his  chin,  as  if  he  had  been  an  infant,  and  he  held  the  ether 
with  the  tooth-powder  and  a  small  mirror  before  him.  While 
Clarke  was  thus  standing — not  exactly  like  Patience — neither 
absolutely  on  a  monument — a  violent  ring  came  to  the  outer 
door. 

"  Who  the  d — 1  can  that  be  ?  Some  of  those  d — d  trades- 
people with  their  '  little  account,'  of  which  I  take  less  account. 
Would  they  could  be  got  to  do  the  same.  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 
grinned  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  as  he  always  did  at  his  own 
witty  conceits ;  and  then  recommenced  the  education  of  his 
teeth,  but  had  scarcely  done  so  when  the  ring  was  repeated 
more  violently  than  before. 

"  You  had  better  see  who  it  is,  Clarke,"  said  his  master, 
11* 


250  BEHIND    THE    SOENEfe 

again  pausii^rr  in  his  operations;  but,  instead  of  moving,  the  va- 
let merely  icplied,  with  the  true  sang  froid  of  greatness, — 

"  Mrs.  Lyon  is  there,  sir." 

"Ah,  well!  if  it's  any  d — d  dun,  tell  her  I  beg  she'll  be' 
Mrs.  Tiger,"  and  here  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  bed-room  door. 

"  Go,  quick  !  Clarke  !  I  cannot  be  disturbed  this  morning, 
I  am  going  out  on  particular  business,  and  I  ean't  see  any  one — ^ 
not  Mr.  Trevylian,  Mr.  Coakington,  or  any  body,  mindT 

"  Not  Mr.  Benaraby,  sir  ? "  put  in  the  ever-considerate  valet, 

"  Mr.  Bendevil  I  not  anyhody,  sir  ;  do  you  understand  Eng- 
lish, and  be  d — d  to  you  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course,  I  do,  sir,  when  you  speak  it  so  very 
plainly,"  bowed  Clarke,  as  he  walked  to  the  door,  upon  open- 
ing which  Mrs.  Lyon,  whose  philosophy  was  quite  Hudibrasticy 
as  she  always  thought  discretion  was  the  wisest  part  of  valour,, 
and,  therefore,  invariably  kept  as  much  out  of  her  master's  sight 
as  possible,  now  slunk  back  behind  the  door,  and  poking  in  her 
skinny  hand,  at  the  end  of  which  she  gingerly  lield  a  card,  as  if 
afraid  that  it  would  give  her  the  plague,  or  else  that  she  might 
communicate  to  it  the  small-pox,  which  had  opened  a  branch 
railway  in  all  directions  over  her  face,  she  merely  said, — 

"  The  gentleman  would  not  stay  a  minute,"  and  then  in- 
stantly followed  his  example. 

The  card  was  Mr.  Benaraby's,  and  on  it  was  scrawled  in. 
pencil, — 

"  Dear  Ferrars, — Pray  sup  with  me  to-morrow  night  from 
one  to  three,  at  the  Clarendon  :  I  have  7iews  for  you." 

And  under  the  word  "  news^^  was  a  broad  heavy  dash,  ta 
render  it  more  important  and  exciting. 

"  D n  it,  can  it  be  possible  that  the  Redby  party  is  com- 
ing in  after  all  ?  "  thought  he,  as  he  read  these  lines  ;  but  all  he 
said  was, — 

"  My  shppers,  Clarke  ;  "  and  plunging  his  feet  into  theip 
Miniver-lined  recesses,  he  made  but  three  bounds  from  the  bed 
to  the  bath-room,   enjoying,  for  about  twenty  minutes,  the  ex- 


fiEHlND    Ti3E    SCENES.  25 1 

qiiisitely-Iulling  sensation,  and  the  real  dolce  far  nicnte  of  the 
ammonia  bath.  He  next  took  a  temporary  plunge  into  health 
and  freshness,  as  Clarke  douched  him  with  the  icy-cold  Hydro- 
mel,  afterwards  Avell  rubbing  him  with  proper  Turkish  bath- 
towels,  and  jniffinff  him,  but,  this  time,  only  with  Pistachio  nut 
powder  and  Foudre  de  Riz.  Nor  was  it  till  he  was  again  un- 
der Clarke's  hands,  during  the  curling  of  his  whiskers,  that  he 
recurred  to  the  word  "  news  "  on  Mr.  Benaraby's  card,  and  once 
more  began  to  ponder  what  its  import  could  be. 

"  For,"  added  the  clever  man  to  himself,  in  reply  to  his  last 
self-addressed  query,  ''  he  can't  be  such  a  d — d  fool  as  to  suppose 
that  /can  rejoice  at  the  triumph  oikis  party,  at  the  expense  of  my 
own,  or  to  believe  in  the  '•'- Seiivper  hahens injlo.demque  aliqiiemqui 
caret  oretem^^''  and  all  that  superannuated  sort  of  fudge.  ISTo,  no  ; 
he's  much  too  shrewd  a  fellow  for  that ;  too  shrewd  a  man  of  the 
Avorld  not  to  know  that  what  is  called  friendship  is  nothing  more 
than  a  convenient  or  necessary  intercourse  between  man  and 
man ;  a  slip-knot,  tied  by  chance  and  circumstances,  to  serve  a 
time  and  to  suit  a  purpose ;  that  friends,  in  fact,  are  nothing 
more  than  those  sort  of  impromptu  and  make-shift  liens  in  the 
social  scale,  which  napkins  and  'kerchiefs  are  to  lovers  and  pris- 
oners, constituting  capital  rope-laddei-s,  upon  an  emergency,  for 
either  climbing  or  escaping,  as  the  case  may  be ;  and  I  have  no 
objection  to  serve  as  a  medium  for  any  enterpiise  of  the  former 
nature,  as  the  ladder  must  be  drawn  in  and  cared  for;  he  who 
uses  it,  alone  putting  his  foot  in  it ;  but  for  the  joint-stock  scape- 
goatism  of  the  latter  sort  of  adventures,  saving  one's  friends  on  a 
pinch,  helping  a  lame  dog  over  a  stile,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing; 
no,  thank  you.  The  hemp  is  not  yet  sown  in  the  soil  of  my  de- 
votion, that  could  produce  a  cord  strong  enough  for  that."  With 
these,  and  similar  reflections  upon  the  possible,  as  well  as  pro- 
bable nature  of  the  "  news  "  Benaraby  had  to  communicate  to 
Lira,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  toilet  progressed  rapidly  under  the 
presiding  and  inventive  genius  of  Clarke.  Having  duly  anoint- 
ed his  master's  tresses  with  a  golden-looking  unguent  called 


252  tJBHiNi)    THE    SCENtSi 

Biocbrine,  or,  "  Life  of  the  Hair,"  that  worthy  suddenly  paiisedj 
and  waving  his  badge  of  office,  the  large  ivory-backed  hair-brush 
high  in  air,  much  after  the  same  at  once  inspired  and  fiatical 
fashion  that  Jullien  does  his  baton,  he  inquired  the  order  of  the 
day  ? — that  is,  whether  the  coiffure  was  to  be  in  the  uncurled, 
lank,  and  listless  sick-of-life  style,  the  ehourifee  blase  sitr  tout 
style,  the  House  of  Commons  well-up  in  statistics  style,  or  the 
crisp  and  conquering  j»:)027zi  de-vice  creve  Coeur  wave  ?  Having 
decided  upon  the  first  of  these  as  the  most  appropriate  to  his 
morning's  undertaking,  Clarke  recommenced  his  operations, 
keeping  in  his  mind's  eye  for  models  those  two  equally  dull  and 
equally  greasy  sources  of  enlightenment — a  German  student, 
and  a  tallow  candle.  Therefore,  carefully  brushing  out  all  the 
lustrous  biochrine,  and  collecting  into  heavy  masses  the  meshes 
he  had  before  so  carefully  separated  into  "  airy  "  or  as  he  him- 
self would  have  more  aptly  expressed  it,  into  hairT/  "  nothings," 
in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  succeeded  in  uniting 
the  principal  specialites  of  each  of  his  models,  and  giving  to  his 
master's  coiffure  all  the  heaviness  of  the  former,  which  toned  in 
admirably  with  all  the  dulness  of  the  latter. 

Jf  the  "  meek-eyed  goddess,  Patience,"  does  by  accident  ever 
take  up  her  abode  with  any  class  of  men,  much  less  with  any 
individual  man,  [the  most  dubious  of  all  the  numerous  and  un- 
certain family  of  the  Ifs — this,  by-the-by,  which  the  author  of 
"  Notes  and  Queries  "  has  never  yet  thrown  any  light  upon,) 
most  assuredly,  the  moment  the  said  man,  or  men,  are  subjected 
to  the  toilet  torture,  or  test,  of  putting  on  their  cravats, — -Pa^ 
tience,  by  a  metamorphose  not  mentioned  in  Ovid,  (probably 
from  the  fact  that  the  ancient  Romans,  notwithstanding  their 
numerous  crimes,  were  yet  guiltless  of  cravats) !  yes,  PatiencCj 
we  say,  instantly  becomes  love,  and 

"  At  sight  of  human  ties, 
Phiraes  her  hght  wings  and  in  a  moment  ilies !  " 

And  long  had  she  fled  on  the  present  occasion,  before  the  little 


bEIilND    THE    SCENES.  253 

haystacks  of  neckcloths  that  now  strewed  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer^ 
rars'  dressing-room,  in  bucolic  bewilderment,  had  accumulated^ 
Clarke,  who  stood  behind,  at  one  side  of  his  chair,  watching  his 
master's  cancelled  essays  one  after  the  other  over  his  shoulder  in 
the  glass,  now  unfolded  his  arms,  and  said — 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir ;  but  if  you  recollect,  when-hevei'  you  have 
your  hair  in  that  style,  you  always  wear  a  plain  black  silk  hand- 
kerchief, twisted  more  hke  an  'ay  (hay)  wisp  than  anything 
helse  round  your  neck,  with  what  Mr.  Coakington  calls  '  a  go^ 
to-the-d — 1  tie,  sir,  with  the  long  hends  dangling  gibbet-ways^ 
sir.'  " 

*'  Ah  !  very  true,"  replied  his  master,  flinging  down  the  Last 
of  the  Mohicans  in  the  shape  of  one  of  Ludlem's  "  latest  new 
summer  patterns."  "  Why  the  deuce  did  you  not  remind  me  of 
that  before  I  had  the  trouble  of  tumbling  all  those  d — d  hand- 
kerchiefs ?  " 

"  Thought,  sir,  p'raps,  as  you  was  a  doing  of  it  for  the  sake 
of  practice,  sir." 

"  You  be ,''  responded  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  giving 

a  sort  of  Calcraft  tug  to  the  ends  of  the  black  kerchief,  which 
had  finally  superseded  all  the  others. 

"If  hit's  all  the  same  to  you,  sir,  Fd  rather  be  ex'-cused,"  said 
Clarke,  with  the  most  deferential  respect;  adding  to  himself, as 
he  went  into  the  next  room  for  a  pair  of  boots — "  Not  that  1 
have  any  himmediate  hintention  of  leaving  your  service  for  all 
that,  old  boy.'' 

Lehocq  had  rather  exceeded  his  warrant  in  making  these 
boots  as  narroAv,  and  the  heels  as  high  as  possible,  so  that  the 
clever  man  had 


■  One  struggle  more," 
Ere  he  was  '  free ! ' 


and  could  get 


"  Back  to  busy  life  again 


254  >  BEHIND    THE    SCEIsES. 

which,  of  coui-se,  in  all  civilized  countries  begins  with  breatfast,- 
And  profuse  and  rechercM  as  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  breakfasts 
were,  including  his  favourite  grill  of  devilled  livers,  which  he 
pronounced  to  be  infinitely  better  than  their  martyred  brethren 
of  Strasburg,  consolidated  mio  foie  gras — this  particular  break- 
fast had  not  sufficient  attraction  to  lure  him  into  discussing  it; 
for  he  missed  the  incitements,  the  whip  and  spur,  as  it  were,  of 
his  morning  meerschaum,  and  his  daily  dram  of  a  claret  glass^ 
ful  of  raw  brandy ;  for  which  he  found  the  large  draught  of 
hock  and  seltzer  water,  which  he  now  swallowed,  but  a  pool- 
substitute.  In  vain,  too,  Clarke,  in  humble  imitation  of  ^lius 
Verus,^'  tried  to  tempt  him  with  an  equally  elaborate  gastrono- 
mic mosaic :  fish  delighted  him  not,  nor  fowl  either.  So,  lei- 
surely putting  on  his  gloves,  and  taking  his  scrupulously  brush" 
ed  beaver  from  Clarke's  hands,  and  carefully  putting  it  on,  some- 
what slouched  over  his  eyes,  he  issued  forth,  bending  his  steps 
towards  St.  James's  Street,  and  from  thence  on  to  Westminster. 
He  had  scarcely  turned  into  Great  Queen  Street,  when  he  caught 
sight  of  the  venerable  the  Archdeacon  Panmuir's  shovel  hat  dis- 
appearing round  the  Abbey  into  one  of  the  cloisters.  Now,  al- 
though it  must  be  confessed,  that  ever  since  he  emerged  from 
the  Albany  his  sole  had  felt  tighter  than  his  heart,  yet,  neverthe- 
less, this  absence  of  the  ponipous,  fussy,  and  always  mal-d-pro- 
pos  Samuel  Panmuir,  from  his  own  house,  upon  this  particular 
morning,  was  a  great  relief  to  the  clever  man. 

"  So  far,  so  well,"  said  he,  "  there  is  one  bore  out  of  the  way^ 
at  all  events ;  and  as  for  the  old  woman,  bah  !  old  women  ai-e 
one  of  the  great  facts  (for  every  bore  is  a  fact)  in  which  I  don't 
believe,  my  creed  in  all  things  being  to  believe  only  what  suits 
me." 

r 

*  In  the  gormandizing  days  of  the  Caesars  and  the  Galbas,  -^Elius 
Verus  invented  a  Macedoine  called  the  pentapharnaacum,  composed 
of  the  flanks  of  swine,  wild  boars'  brains,  parrots'  tongues,  pheasants', 
peacocks'  and  nightingales'  livers,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  ex- 
pense, a  poor  thing  it  must  have  been  after  all. 


JtJEH'IlSiD    THE    SCENES.  25^>' 

JBJditli  had  passed  a  restless  and  uncomfortable  night.  She 
eould  not  doubt  for  what  purjDose  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had 
requested  an  interview  with  her ;  and  all  in  rejoicing  that  he 
had  not  thought  fit  to  do  so  four  or  five  months  sooner,  she  yet 
unsuspectedly  and  unacknowledged  to  herself  in  a  manner  re- 
seuted  his  having  angled  with  her  so  long ;  as  he  had  never  at- 
tempted  to  conceal  his  unqualified  admiration  for  her,  which  she, 
in  her  own  guilelessness,  had  thought  was  synonymous  with 
love.  But  she  now  rejoiced  that  he  had  not  sooner  made  any 
exphcit  declaration  of  it ;  for  as  we  have  before  stated,  not  only 
had  he  interested  her  imagination  by  his  talents,  and  unques- 
tionable intellectual  superiority  over  those  with  whom  she  lived  ; 
but  he  had,  or  rather  she  thought  he  bad^  as  poor  Donald's 
friend,  excited  in  her  a  warmer  interest;  and  under  the  delu- 
sion of  mistaking  this  foreshadowing  of  affection  for  its  reality, 
she  might  have  accepted  him  from  her  love  for  her  dead  bro- 
ther, coupled  with  that  deep  yearning  which  all  pure  and  gener- 
ous natures  feel  towards  the  worship  of  that  pre-conceived-  Om* 
nipotence,  which  is  at  once  to  fill  the  void  of  their  existence  and 
to  consecrate  the  great  temple  of  their  heart.  But  since  she  had 
known  Harold  Lancaster  the  scales  had  fallen  from  her  mental 
vision,  and  she  became  aware  that,  however  great  the  Diana  of 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  intellectual  Ephesus  might  be,  it  was  far, 
very  far  from  being  even  the  unknow^n,  much  less  the  true  di- 
vinity of  whom  her  spirit  was  in  search.  And  even  had  Mr.  Lan- 
caster inspired  her  with  no  deeper  feeling  than  one  of  ordinary 
and  passing  liking,  still  his  rival  had  contrived  to  appear  so  be- 
set with  all  the  darker  and  more  odious  passions,  whenever  she 
had  seen  them  together,  that  he  had  full}^  endorsed  Alciphron 
Murray's  bad  opinion  of  him,  and  had  sealed  and  signed  his  own 
condemnation  more  than  his  worst  enemy  could  have  done — if, 
indeed,  bad  men  can  possess  a  worse  enemy  than  themselves  ? 
Yet,  as  Edith  always  shrank  from  giving  pain — were  the  object 
worthy  or  unworthy — she  was  nervously  anxious  to  have  this 
meeting  over ;  like  a  patient  dreading  the  commencement,  yet 
longing  for  the  termination  of  some  critical  and  painful  opera- 


SSO  BEtilNb  TilE   scenej?, 

tion.  But,  for  the  racked  spirit  of  a  Christian,  JPrayer  is  tlie 
chlorofojm  which  the  Great  Physician — the  healer  and  biuder- 
lip  of  all  wounds — has  provided.  Compassed  as  we  are  on  all 
sides  by  the  billows  of  our  own  conflicting  passions,  the  tempest 
of  adverse  circumstances  and  overwhelming  temptations,  the 
sunken  rocks  of  sin,  the  unsuspected  under-currents  of  treachery, 
ever  periling  our  frail  bark  on  life's  stormy  sea ;  while  the 
stoutest  sails  of  our  strongest  resolutions  are  shattered  by  gales 
from  all  quarters  of  bitter  disappointments,  perplexing  caresj 
prostrated  strength,  debilitated  faculties,  gnawing  pain,  heart- 
breaking bereavements,  our  whole  crew  of  good  intentions  and 
virtuous  aspirations  disabled  from  gloomy  doubts,  and  inefFect- 
Ual  struggles  with  undeveloped  agonies,  whose  echoes  are  curses 
and  whose  shadows  are  fears ! — whither,  indeed,  can  we  take 
refuge  hut  in  Prayer  ? — that  blessed,  free  port  of  Heaven  which 
we  never  enter,  whatsoever  may  be  the  burden  of  our  tempest- 
tossed  vessel,  without  our  souls  being  cheered  by  the  Saviour's 
ever-i-enewed  assurance — 

"IT  IS  I,  BE  KOT  afraid;' 
And  after  such  a  divine  injunction,  shall  we  presume  to 
contend  with  the  storm  ?  when  He  is  there  to  control  it !  Edith^ 
at  all  events,  felt  that  she  would  not ;  and  having  unburdened 
her  heart,  and  committed  her  care  "  to  Him  who  careth  for  us," 
the  storm  of  pei-plexity  and  anxiety  had  been  rebuked  within 
her,  and  she  rose  up  at  "  peace,"  and  "  still ; "  assured  that  what- 
ever conflict  she  might  be  called  upon  to  engage  in,  Heaven 
would,  with  the  danger,  make  also  a  way  of  escape.  Wretched 
as  it  is,  humanly  speaking,  to  have  no  earthly  guide  or  counsel- 
lor, for,  verily,  there  is  no  desolation  like  it,  still,  in  a  spiritual 
point  of  view,  this  seeming  bereavement  is  in  reality  a  blessed 
and  incalculable  privilege ;  for  then,  like  Enoch,  we  feel  that 
God  walks  with  us.  To  Him,  for  fear  of  falling,  we  must  com- 
mit our  ways  ;  and  truly  in  such  fear,  "  there  is  great  wisdom  ; " 
for  it  keeps  our  ultimate  goal  ever  in  view,  making  Christ  at 
once  our  stafl",  our  standard,  and  our  refuge,  instead  of  the  world. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  2o  * 

with  its  foolish  wisdom  I  its  crooked  rectitude!  and  \i&  false 
weights  and  measures.  An  Eastern  traveller^-  has  described 
Mount  Ararat  as  being  divided  into  three  regions  of  different 
breadths.  The  first  of  which  is  covered  with  short  and  sHppery 
grass,  and  sand,  as  troublesome  as  the  quicksands  of  Africa ; 
the  second  is  occupied  by  tigers  and  crow^;  and  the  remainder, 
which  is  half  the  mountain,  is  overlaid  with  snow,  which  has 
been  accumulating  ever  since  the  Ark  rested  upon  it ;  and  these 
snows  are  concealed  during  one  half  the  year  in  very  dense 
clouds.  But  one  of  the  chief  features  of  this  mountain,  is  the 
great  gulf  which  extends  nearly  half  way  down  it ;  while  across 
this  gulf  hangs  a  cliff,  over  which  a  single  false  step  may  hurl 
the  traveller  into  the  unfathomable  abyss  beneath,  wherein  de- 
tached pieces  of  ice  are  always  rolling  with  the  stunning  noise 
of  the  loudest  thunder.  Is  not  this  an  exact  epitome  of  the 
world,  and  the  three  stages  of  human  life  by  which  we  pass 
through  it  ?  As  children,  we  encounter  the  first  and  compara- 
tively trifiiing,  short,  slippery  grass  of  embiyo  passions,  and  con- 
tinually-recurring restrictions,  which  impede  our  first  steps  ;  with 
the  sands  of  wasted  hours  ever  returning  to  reproach  and  irri- 
tate us,  by  preventing  our  clearly  seeing  the  path  before  us, 
Avhen  we  would  gladly  progress  and  no  longer  loiter  by  the 
way.  Next,  as  adults,  we  arrive  at  the  second  division  of  what 
may  be  emphatically  called  the  world,  peopled,  indeed,  with 
innumerable  dangers,  in  the  shape  of  ferocious  animals  and 
birds  of  prey,  ever  ready  to  pounce  upon  our  experience,  an-d  to 
immolate  it,  and  us,  to  their  own  necessities  or  well-being. 
And  lastly,  comes  the  chilling  division  of  age ;  wherein  we  are 
surrounded  by  the  hardening  snows  of  extinct  passions,  and 
where  all  the  much  loved,  though  it  may  be  also  the  much 
fibused  PAST  is  irrevocably  shut  out  from  us  by  the  dense  un- 
fathomable clouds  of  sin,  sorrow,  and  death.  Whil '  every 
weary  step  that  we  have  taken  in  attaining  this  point  has  been 

*  Sir  R.  K.  Porter. 


258  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

marked  by  tlie  loosening  and  detachment  of  some  spot  of  earth 
on  which  we  rested !  and  to  which  we  vainly  clung,  they  being 
hurled  before  us  into  the  eternal  gulf  beneath  !  sending  to  some, 
in  the  stupendous  groans  of  their  dissolution,  a  timely  warning ; 
and  to  others,  nothing!  but  the  hollow,  cold  agony  of  a  too 
late  remorse.  Oh  !  would  it  not  then  be  better  from  the  first, 
to  look  above  and  beyond  all  these  slippery  paths  of  danger 
and  of  disappointment;  to  the  safe  summit,  upon  which  the 
Ark  of  God's  everlasting  covenant  still  rests  as  really^  though 
not  as  visibly,  as  it  did  upon  the  Ararat  of  old  ? 

At  least,  happily  for  Edith,  she  thought  so  ;  and  therefore 
she  now  waited,  with  calm  resignation,  for  the  man  whose  fet- 
ters she  had  shaken  from  her  mind,  but  whose  influence  over 
her  still,  was  the  creating  of  that  sort  of  cataleptic  powerless- 
ness  which  serpents  are  said  to  exercise  over  their  victims,  and 
which  for  want  of  a  better  definition  we  have  misnamed,  "  fas- 
cination." Mrs.  Dunbar  had  gone  to  Christy's — for  like  most 
very  old  ladies  who  cannot  long  want  anything,  and  are  there- 
fore apt  to  fancy  that  they  want  everything,  she  was  much  ad- 
dicted to  auctions,  and  all  other  marts  of  modern  merchandise. 
The  Archdeacon,  as  we  have  seen,  had  gone  down  to  the  Abbey  ; 
for  as  one  of  its  prebends,  he  thought  it  only  right  that  it  should 
appear  to  require  his  presence,  Avhether  it  did  or  not ;  and  as 
Edith  had  given  no  orders,  pro  or  con,  about  being  visible,  she 
knew  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  would  be  sure  to  be  admitted. 
And  now  to  return  to  that  personage ;  he  had  no  sooner 
entered  St.  James's  Park  by  Storey's  gate,  than  at  the  very 
beginning  of  the  mall  (of  which  the  large  bay  windows  of 
Archdeacon  Panmuir's  house  commanded  a  full  view)  than  he 
began  to  regulate  his  look,  walk,  and  whole  deportment.  His 
ideas  of  love — (we  beg  pardon  for  the  profanation  of  the  name) 
— at  least  his  ideas  of  succeeding  with  women,  were  most  bel- 
licose ;  for,  as  in  war,  he  thought  that  everything  depended 
upon  stratagem  and  tactics,  so  in  love  making  he  opined  that 
every  move  should  be  caculated.     Such   hard  tasks  does  the 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  259 

hired  Professor  Art  set  his  pupils  in  that  particular  class  of 
human  knowledge;  whereas  their  indulgent  Alma  Mater 
Xature  teaches  them  all  its  rudiments  with  a  look,  and  bribes 
them  to  the  solution  of  its  hardest  problems  wnth  the  sweets  of 
intuition.  But  poor  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  w^as  an  individual, 
and  a  universal  orphan  ;  for  having  lost  his  parents  while  yet 
young,  and  quarrelled  with  his  guardian  Nature,  from  his  first 
onset  in  life,  she  had  ended  by  disinheriting  him  ;  so  that  there 
Avas  no  intercourse  between  them.  It  w^as  upon  this  system  of 
calculation,  that  he  had  decided  upon  walking  upon  this  identi- 
cal morning,  in  preference  to  any  other  mode  of  conveyance ; 
for  walking,  as  Mademoiselle  Anatole,  a  fair  friend  of  his,  and 
a  charming  Coryphee,  had  told  him,  if  it  cannot  always  give  a 
colour,  it  at  least  always  makes  the  complexion  clearer,  and 
perhaps  he  had  sufficient  self-knowledge  to  feel  that  he  required 
a  little  clearing,  if  not  a  great  deal  I  For  the  last  ten  minutes 
he  had  been  sorely  perplexed  in  his  deliberations,  as  to  whether 
he  should,  in  accosting  Edith,  adopt  the  reproachful,  the  tender, 
the  desperate,  or  the  despairing  lover  tone  ;  but  terminated  this 
debate  with  an 

"  Oh —  !  d n  it !  one  can  never  tell  beforehand  what  one 

w^ill  or  will  not  do.  On  these  occasions  everything  must  grow 
out  of,  and  depend  upon,  circumstances  ;  and  all  pre-concerted 
speeches  and  hues  of  conduct  are  found,  like  those  things  which 
one's  servant  is  sure  to  pack  up  so  carefully  in  travelling — not 
wanted,  while  what  is,  is  never  forthcoming." 

And  with  this  truism,  the  clever  man  anived  at  Samuel 
Panmuir's  door,  where  he  gave  one  quick,  impatient,  yet  tremu- 
lous ring  ;  for  it  was  one  of  his  theories  always  to  study  eflfect 
for  the  unseen  eyes  and  ears  that  might  be  evidencing  his  pro- 
ceedings ;  which  he  had  condensed  into  an  aphorism,  upon  a 
former  occasion,  when  having  remonstrated  with  Mr.  Ctesar 
Coakington  upon  the  muffism  of  walking  down  St.  James's 
Street,  on  a  gusty  day  in  September,  in  a  rough,  and  somewhat 
shabby,  pilot  coat.  A  proceeding  which  that  gentleman  had 
defended,  by  saying — 


260  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Pooh  !  my  dear  fellow,  there  is  nobody  in  town  now." 
To  which  the  clever  man  replied, — "  Pardon  me,  my  dear 
Coakington,  but  your  reason  is  as  shallow  as  an  Italian  river  in 
July;  for  be  assured,  that  all  places,  that  is,  all  theroughfares, 
are  at  all  times  crowded  with  invisible  lookers  on  and  listeners, 
as  wherever  there  are  houses,  there  are  sure  to  be  both." 

For  in  the  orthodox  and  systematic  charlatanism  of  his 
highly  cultivated  intellectual,  and  totally  neglected  moral  educa- 
tion, there  was  no  theorem  of  life,  no  psychological  phase  of 
ideality,  no  chemical,  no  mechanical,  electrical,  or  mathematical 
bubble,  which  possessed  sufficient  semblance  of  truth  to  give 
currency  to  their  ephemeral  reigns — whose  phenomena  he  had 
not  deeply  studied,  and  whose  component,  or  conflicting  particles 
he  had  not  carefully  analysed.  Nay  ;  even  to  those  cabalistic 
miasmas  which  occasionally  exhale  from  Nature's  more  occult 
laboratories  to  the  surface  of  our  social  system,  to  confound  our 
reason,  and  to  mystify  our  faith  ; — he  had  attempted  to  pene- 
trate into  their  arcana,  but  never  beyond,  into  their  cana. 
Content,  in  his  ceaseless  excavations  of  Nature's  hidden  treasures 
to  clear  away  the  errors  of  former  ages,  that  psycho-geological 
rubbish  of  time,  and  flood  them  with  the  light  of  this  world, 
without  ever  looking 

"  Through  Xature  up  to  Nature's  God  !  " 

Having  rang,  he  put  up  his  right  hand  to  his  right  whisker 
— not  so  much  to  test  the  skill  of  Clarke's  morning's  work,  as 
in  some  sort  to  dishevel  that  chef  cPoeuvre.  "  Now  for  it ! " 
thought  he,  terminating  with  a  caress  to  his  chin;  to  borrow 
the  celebrated  saying  of  Bossuet,  upon  one  of  his  contemporary's 
apostacy — 

" '  Dictate  to  me  as  unto  Job.  Verba  dolore  plena  ! ' " 
Adding  aloud,  as  Railton  opened  the  door — 

"  Is  the  Archdeacon  within  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  he  is  not ;  he's  been  gone  out  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  261 

"  Oh,  indeed  !     Then  is  Mrs.  Dunbar  at  home  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Dunbar  is  out,  too,  sir  ;  for  the  carriage  was  ordered 
at  twelve." 

"  Miss  Panmuir  out,  too  ? " 

"  Well — no,  sir.  I  rather  think  Miss  Panmuir  is  in  ;  at 
least  she  did  not  go  out  with  Mrs.  Dunbar. 

"  Jefferson,  is  Miss  Panmuir  at  home  ?  "  said  he,  calling  to 
a  footman  who  was  carrying  down  a  tray  of  day-before  flowers, 
which  had  just  been  replaced  by  fresh  ones. 

"Yes;  Miss  Panmuir  is  in  the  drawing-room." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Panmuir  is  in,  sir.  Will  you  please  to  w^cilk  up 
stairs,  sir  ?  " 

And,  preceded  by  Railton,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  leisurely 
traversed  the  hall,  and  ascended  to  the  drawing-room. 

"  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,"  announced  Railton,  opening  wide 
the  door.  But,  as  a  servant's  absence  never  was  yet  more 
especially  desired,  but  what,  of  course,  a  newspaper  required  to 
be  put  straight,  a  bhnd  to  be  arranged,  or  the  fire  to  be  stirred, 
Railton  now  found  it  necessary  to  follow  the  clever  man  into  the 
room,  to  perform  the  two  former  of  these  httle  supererogatory 
^vorks,  to  Edith's  o-reat  relief,  and  to  her  visitor's  infinite  annovance. 

"  A  charming  day,  is  it  not  ?  "  said  she,  in  the  most  per- 
fectly unembarrassed  tone,  after  having  shaken  hands  with  him. 
While  Railton  w^as  first  drawing  up,  and  then  drawing  par- 
tially down,  one  of  the  blinds,  so  as  to  make  the  purple  and 
gold  splendours  of  an  Indian  pheasant's  tail  find  its  proper  level; 
which,  from  the  blind  having  been  somewhat  awry,  had  ap- 
peared to  rise  majestically  above  the  bird's  head,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  dowager  dressed  for  court. 

"  Charming  !  indeed,  too  charming,"  echoed  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  plunging  such  an  admiring  and  undaunted  gaze  into 
the  very  deepest  recesses  of  the  pupils  of  Edith's  eyes,  that  her 
cheeks,  from  the  soft,  delicate,  maiden  blush  tint  that  they  had 
been,  became  like  two  deep-dyed  damask  roses. 

The  clever  man  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  Railton  and  the 


262  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

pheasant,  and  thought  (though  no  sportsman)  that  he  could 
have  bagged  ten  brace  of  real  ones  at  a  hattu  in  half  the  time 
that  Samuel  Panmuir's  fat  butler  had  been  wrestling  with  that 
illuminated  effigy.     At  length,  Railton  had  not  only 

"Adorned  the  ^a?7," 
but  also 

"Pointed  a  moral," 
by  turning  down  a  scandalous  trial,  in  a  morning  paper,  and 
showing  up  the  leading  article.  But  as  it  is  never  safe  to  risk 
any  sort  of  encounter  with  the  press,  but  after  a  Parthian  fash- 
ion, immediately  following  this  latter  proceeding,  he  wisely 
effected  his  retreat. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  upon  Railton,  than  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars  had  flung  himself  at  Edith's  feet,  and  seizing  both 
her  hands,  which  he  covered  with  kisses,  and  held  so  tightly 
within  his  grasp  that  she  in  vain  endeavoured  to  withdraw  them. 
But  never  had  he  (to  borrow  one  of  his  own  scientific  terms) 
made  "  a  falser  move  ;  "  for  indignation  at  such  an  unprefaced 
and  unauthorized  proceeding  gave  to  the  timid  girl,  who  other- 
wise might  not  have  had  the  nerve  to  inflict  the  slightest  pain, 
the  courage  of  a  lion,  and  the  resolution  of  a  stoic. 

"  I  beg,  sir,"  said  she  haughtily,  "  that  you  will  instantly 
rise  and  release  my  hands.  Nothing  ever  has  passed,  or  ever 
can  2MSS,  between  us  "  (and  she  emphasized  the  last  words),  "  to 
authorize  your  oSering  me  such  an  afi'ront ;  for  in  no  other  Hght 
can  I  consider  your  present  conduct." 

"  Hoiking  !  has  ever  passed  between  us  !  "  repeated  he,  sud- 
denly dropping  her  hands,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  grasping  his 
own  hair  hke  a  madman.  "  Good  heavens,  Edith  !  I  beg  your 
pardon.  Miss  Panmuir ;  and  do  you,  can  you  call  the  hoarded, 
burning,  maddening,  all-absorbing  love,  the  wild,  idolatrous,  and 
exclusive  devotion  of  four  long  years,  nothing  ?  You^  who 
have  been  at  once  the  impetus  and  goal  of  all  my  labours,  the 
Polar  star  towards  which  I  steered  through  every  storm  !   You, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  263 

the  varied,  yet  harmoniously  blent  fascinations  of  ^Yhose  beauty 
— a  beauty  which  knows  neither  an  equal  nor  a  fault — who 
have  been  above  my  every" earth-born  cloud  and  sorrow,  the 
rainbow  tints  that  spanned  the  arch  of  Hope's  bright  distant 
heaven  !  You,  who  have  been  to  me  the  giver  of  light  and 
life,  the  sun  of  my  system,  expanding  and  fructifying  in  me  the 
germs  of  a  latent  intelligence  !  For,  till  I  knew  you,  I  had  no 
ambition  ;  mine  was  the  mere  low,  aimless,  grovelling  instincts 
of  reptile  life  !  Your  smile  it  was  that  gave  to  my  spirit  the 
first  chrysalis  intimation  of  its  wings ;  for  then  it  was  I  felt  how 
high  it  must  soar  before  it  could  attain,  or  at  least  before  it 
could  aspire  to,  such  perfection  !  If  toil  and  study  have  anti- 
cipated the  work  of  time,  and  brushed  youth's  gloss  and  bloom 
more  even  from  my  heart,  than  from  my  cheek,  do  not  suppose 
that  I  made  this  sacrifice  to  the  opinions,  or  for  the  ovations,  of 
men  ;  for  never  would  I  have  cared  to  hear  my  name  repeated 
by  the  trumpet-tongued  voice  of  Fame,  but  that  it  might  be 
echoed  by  the  mass  ;  and  that  those  echoes  might  be  to  you  so 
many  memories  of,  and  messengers  from  me.  Fool !  fool !  that 
I  was  ;  since  it  seems  that,  while  you  were  my  all,  my  past,  my 
present,  and  my  future  !  /  was  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  not 
even  a  passing  thought  in  your  existence.  And  yet  I  had  fan- 
cied— nay  more,  1  had  /lo/jcc? — and  hope,  in  love's  fanaticism,  is 
the  happiest  part  of  certainty — its  anticipation.  Yes,  I  had 
hoped,  from  the  flattering  opinion  you  expressed  of  my  books, 
and  from  the  interest  you  appeared  to  take  in  their  success,  that 
their  author  had  not  been  so  totally  indifferent  to  you." 

These  last  w^ords  were  uttered  in  a  broken  and  scarcely 
articulate  voice  ;  and  at  their  conclusion  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  sank  down  upon  a  Napo- 
leon causeuse,  leaning  his  head  despairingly  against  the  arm  of 
it.  "While  poor  Edith,  who  had  no  suspicion  that  such  passion- 
ate protestations  could  be  nothing  more  than  practised  per- 
juries, began  to  fear,  though  scarcely  to  feel,  that  she  had  done 
this  man  a  grievous  wrong,  and  had  been,  though  very  uninten- 


264  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tionally,  tlie  cause  of  the  liiiman  wreck  before  her ;  for  at  that 
moment,  such  was  the  role,  that  he  looked  to  perfection.  So 
seating  herself  upon  the  other  si'de  of  the  causeuse,  and  not 
sorry  for  the  well-stuffed  barrier  that  serpentined  between  them, 
she  said,  in  so  gentle  and  contrite  a  voice,  that  it  would  but 
have  increased  his  anguish  had  it  been  real,  and  not  savoured 
infinitely  more  of  resentment  than  regret — 

"  I  do  assure  you,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  that  no  one  can 
be  a  greater  admirer  of  your  works  than  I  am,  or  take  a  greater 
interest  in  their  well-merited  success  ;  and  I  have  not  only  been 
most  grateful,  but  much  flattered,  by  your  very  kind  attention^ 
in  always  affording  me  an  opportunity  (insignificant  and  little 
worth  as  my  judgment  is)  of  taking  the  initiative  in  the  sentence 
which  popularity  has  awarded  them.  But,  as  I  never  had  the 
vanity  to  suppose  that  you  cherished  for  me,  individually,  any 
deeper  sentiment,  as  you  never  till  to-day  gave  me  any  intima- 
tion of  such  being  the  case,  you  will,  I  hope,  acquit  me  of  either 
having  encouraged,  or  trifled  with,  a  feehng  which,  however  I 
may  be,  and  am,  grateful  to  you  for  entertaining  towards  me, 
I  ignored  till  now,  and  which  I  now  frankly  tell  you  I  cannot 
reciprocate." 

"  No,  I  never  before  bared  my  heart  to  you,"  he  ex- 
claimed, suddenly  uncovering,  and  turning  his  face  towards  her, 
which  was  actually  livid,  swollen,  and  distorted  with  suppressed 
rage — "  because  I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  ask  you,  for  whose 
overwhelming  beauty  nature  appeared  to  have  ordained  a  dia- 
dem as  a  dower,  to  share  the  uphill  struggle  of  a  poor  man.  I 
felt  that  I  ought  at  least  achieve  a  position,  where  as  upon  a 
befitting  altar,  I  might  place  the  love  which  I  presumed  to  offer 
you  ;  or  my  aunt's  death,  an  event  likely  to  occur  from  one 
month  to  another,  might,  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  have 
enabled  me  to  break  a  silence  which  was  to  me  the  realization 
of  the  fabled  tortures  of  Prometheus  and  Tantalus  combined. 
But  this  event  not  occurring,  I  was  continually  compelled  to 
roll  the  stone  back  upon  my  heart ;  till  now  that  you   begin  to 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  265 

raix  in  society,  and  that  I  bear  of  iiotliing  but  you,  and  see  you 
surrounded  by  admirers  who,  at  least,  in  a  worldly  point  of 
view,  have  more  pretensions  to,  and  chance  of  success  than  I 
have,  though  in  deep,  deep  love,  and  imalloyed  devotion,  they 
never  can  approach  me  within  ten  thousand  sacrifices !  But, 
seeing*  them  with  their  costly  chances  against  my  poor  love,  I 
could  endure  it  no  longer ;  silence  became  suicide,  and  I  rushed 
here  this  morning  determined  to  set  my  fate  upon  a  cast,  and 
end  this  fearful,  this  too  unequal  struggle,  Edith  !  without  a  sigh, 
without  a  pang.  You  have  pronounced  my  doom  ;  but  with 
my  last  breath  I' wall  bless  and  thank,  for  it  is  a  boon  to  die  for, 
and  by  you,  rather  than  accept  the  impossible  alternative  of  hv- 
ing  without  you," 

This  last  stroke,  though  as  flimsy,  was  also  as  fine,  as  the 
cobweb  cambric  with  which  J^^dith  now  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  Ha ! "  thought  he,  "  the  spell  works,  for  she  already  wav- 
ers." 

And  with  this  reflection  he  resolved  upon  another  coup 
cVctat^  and  again  flung  himself  at  her  feet,  but  this  time  studi- 
ously avoided  taking  or  even  touching  her  hand,  by  keeping 
his  own  clasped  in  the  most  imploring  manner.' 

"  Oh  !  Edith,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  have  made  me  desperate  : 
beware  how  you  leave  me  so.  You  little  know,  and  you  cannot 
even  imagine,  in  the  nicely-poised  equator  of  your  own  pure 
and  palatine  organization,  the  fearful  extremes  of  evil  that  deep, 
passional,  and  wayward  natures  like  mine  are  capable  of;  when 
the  anchor  of  their  last  hope  is  weighed,  and  they  are  sent  adrift 
without  chart  or  compass,  to  buflfet  with  the  ruthless  tempest  of 
their  own  ungovernable  despair!  Edith!  Edith!  mercy!  It 
is  for  more  than  life  I  am  pleading  ;  it  is  for  my  salvation.  As 
you  value  your  owni  soul,  beware  and  pause  ere  you  peril  mine." 

"  I  do,  I  have  paused,"  sobbed  Edith  ;  "  and  what  a  shameful, 
what  an  iniquitous  return  it  would  be  in  exchange  for  all  the  devo- 
tion you  have  expressed  for  me,  to  give  to  your  pleadings  nothing 
but  the  hollow  consent  of  words.  Nothing  but  love  can  requite 
12 


266  BEHIND    THE    fe'CENKS. 

love  ;  and — and  I  must  repeat  it,  /  do  not  love  you.  For  it  is  bet- 
ter to  seem  unkind,  than  to  be  cruel ;  and  what  cruelty  is  there 
like  deceit,  when  aiFection  is  the  trust  it  selects  for  its  victim  ! " 

"  You  do  not  love  me  ! "  slowly  repeated  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  in  a  hollow,  extinct  voice,  and  with  a  pale,  wandering, 
haggard  look,  as,  grapphng  with  the  arm  of  the  sofa  for  support, 
as  if  climbing  a  rock  to  save  himself  from  a  physical,  instead  of  a 
figurative  shipwreck,  he  again  tottered  to  his  feet,  taking  care 
to  untie  one  of  the  long  ends  of  his  wispy  black  cravat,  which 
gave  the  finishing  touch  to  his  appearance  of  utter  devastation, 
before  he  tightly  folded  his  arms,  and  again  repeated — 

"  You  do  not  love  me  1  But  oh  !  Edith,  you  have  not  said 
that  you  cannot  love  me  !  I  do  not,  indeed  I  do  not,  wish  to 
wrest  your  love  from  you  ;  though  doubtless  you  think  I  do ; 
from  the  manner  in  which  I  was  hurried  away  this  morning  on 
first  seeing  you  by  a  thousand  conflicting  tortures.  Oh !  no,  I 
would  rather  win  it.  Only  try  for  a  few  months  if  you  cannot 
love  me  I  As  Omnipotence,  out  of  the  void,  willed  the  creation, 
so  shall  your  wnll  re-create  me  Though  my  mind  be  now  a 
chaotic  pandemonmm,  hint  but  a  fault,  and  it  shall  disappear. 
In  a  very  few  months  my  aunt  may — nay,  in  the  course  of  na- 
ture, she  must  succumb  to  the  malady  that  is  so  rapidly  under- 
mining her  constitution.  Edith,  give  me  one  hope  to  live  upon, 
that  you  will  then  be  mine  ;  at  least  that  till  then,  you  will  not 
listen  to  any  other  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Edith  firmly  ;  "  even  if  I  loved  you  I  would  not 
give  you  any  conditional  promise  of  uniting  my  fate  with  yours, 
at  your  aunt's  death  ;  whom  I  have  always  heard,  has  been  a 
most  kind  and  hberal  relative  to  you ;  for  I  think  no  blessing 
could  attend  a  marriage,  where  death  was  waited  for  to  deck 
the  altar." 

"  There,  there,  enough  !  "  almost  shrieked  he,  stopping  his 
ears  as  if  a  whole  park  of  artillery  had  suddenly  been  discharged 
in  them.  "  One  would  think  that  all  hell  had  been  set  on,  to 
torture  me ! " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  26t 

Edith,  not  at  all  perceiving  what  connection  her  last  words 
could  have  with  the  terrible  excitement  he  had  manifested  on 
hearing  them,  calmly  added — "  I  thank  you  for  delegating  to 
me  a  supposititious  control  over  your  actions,  and  influence  over 
your  conduct ;  and  if  you  have  faults  (as  who  is  there  that  has 
not  ?)  I  hope,  sincerely  hope,  that  for  your  own  sake,  seeing 
them,  you  will  try  to  mend  them.  But  as  far  as  I  am  concerned 
(besides  having  no  faith  in  any  woman's  power  over  mascuhne 
errors)  I  would  prefer  reversing  the  office  of  censor ;  for  if  I 
married,  I  should  like  to  look  up  to  my  husband,  and  would 
rather  that  he  corrected  my  faults,  provided  that  he  did  so  in 
love,  and  justice,  without  any  admixture  of  temper  or  caprice." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  groaned.  He  was  fast  cursing  Edith 
in  his  heart,  as  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  met  that 

"Flattery  could  not  fool." 

But  he  also  saw  that  the  moment  had  arrived  when  he  must 
play  his  last  stake ;  so  throwing  his  eyes  up  to  the  ceiling,  which 
made  an  excellent  substitute  for  heaven  to  a  man  so  little  ac- 
quainted as  he  was  with  that  locality,  he  exclaimed,  clasping 
and  wringing  his  hands,  with  a  look  of  almost  agonized  solem- 
nity— 

"  Mr  POOR  Donald  !  It  was  your  last  wish,  and  my  first 
hope  ! — bear  witness,  with  all  the  other  angels  ! — how  it  would 
have  been  the  study  of  my  life  to  have  made  hers  happy,  would 
she  but  have  confided  to  me  that  sacred  mission." 

At  this  allusion  to  her  brother,  and  this  solemn  appeal  to 
his  now  unfettered  spirit,  Edith's  tears  flowed  hot,  and  fast — 

"  You  xoere  his  friend,"  sobbed  she,  putting  out  her  hand  to 
Ferrars,  "and  as  such, I  must  ever  be  yours, but  more  I  cannot 
be  ;  the  very  memory  you  have  invoked  forbids  it ;  for  if  he 
wished  me  to  marry  you,  of  course  he  wished  me  to  love  you. 
How,  then,  dare  I  ask  him  now  to  look  down  upon  such  a  sac- 
rilege as  my  marrying  you  without  would  be  ? " 

She  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words,  before  carriage-wheels 


268  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

were  heard  on  the  gravel  beneath  the  window,  followed  by  a 
loud  ring — 

"  You  had  better,"  said  Edith,  lifting  it  from  the  sofa,  and 
holding  it  towards  him,  "  put  on  your  cravat." 

A  feat  which  he  performed  wonderfully  well  for  a  man  in  so 
distracted  a  state  ;  saying  rapidly  after  he  had  done  so — 

"  Miss  Panmuir,  will  you  at  least  answer  me  one  question 
truly ;  and  without  the  slightest  equivocation  or  arriere  pen- 
see  ?  " — 

"  If  I  answer  it  at  all,"  said  she,  with  the  slightest  possible 
inflection  of  hauteur  in  her  voice,  "  I  shall  of  course  answer  it 
with  truth,  and  without  that  meanest  of  all  species  of  falsehood , 
equivocation." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  on  your  honour,  are  you  engaged  to  that 
Ml'.  Lancaster ;  or  has  he  proposed  for  you  ?  " 

A  sudden,  though  transient  flush  lit  up  Edith's  cheek; 
quite  as  much  at  the  term,  "  that  Mr.  Lancaster,"  as  at  the  ques- 
tion itself. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,"  said  she,  "  you  forget 
yourself;  therefore  I  n;ust  remind  you  that  I  am  not  bound  to 
answer  such  questions." 

"Oh  !  you  need  not;  I  see  it  all  ;  I  could  have  taken  my 
oath  of  it." 

"Then  would  you  have  perjured  yourself,"  said  she;  "as  I 
am  not  engaged  to  Mr.  Lancaster,  for  he  never  proposed  for " 
me." 

"  For  he  never  proposed  for  you  !  "  echoed  the  other,  with 
one  of  his  horrible  yelling  laughs.  "  Oh  !  as  that  is  the  only 
barrier  to  the  engagement,  permit  me  to  congratulate  you  ;  for, 
depend  upon  it,  it  will  soon  be  removed,"  said  he,  bowing  down 
to  the  ground,  preparatory  to  rushing  out  of  the  room,  as  he 
now  heard  Mrs.  Dunbar's  voice  on  the  stairs ;  and  past  her  he 
would  have  hurried  as  unceremoniously  as  an  express  train,  only 
that  old  ladies  never  will  let  anything  pass,  from  an  observation 
to  an  ourano'-outano-. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  269 

"  All !  how  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  ? "  said  slie,  im- 
peding bis  fligbt  by  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  as  he  was 
rushing  past  her.  "  Always  in  a  hurry  ;  always  in  a  hurry ! 
Ah !  that's  the  way  Avith  young  people.  Going  down  to  the 
House  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  he,  eagerly  clutching  at 
the  surmise :  "  a  railway  committee,  for  which  I  am  already  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  late." 

"  Just  like  me  at  Christy's  ! — the  most  lovely  green  china 
monkey  knocked  down  to  Lady  Mabel  Maiden  five  minutes  be- 
fore I  arrived  ;  but  then,  poor  thing,  it  will  be  a  great  comfort 
to  her,  she  having  lost  her  husband."  ** 

"Would,"  thought  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  who  kept  impa- 
tiently biting  his  lips,  "  that  this  d — d  monkey  had  served  you 
as  that  sensible  living  monkey  did  Dr.  Young's  tragedy,  and 
should  have  dealt  with  his  '  Night  Thoughts ! ' " 

At  length  the  old  lady,  feeling  a  draught  from  the  hall  door, 
began  to  have  great  consideration  for  the  railway  committee, 
and  said — 

"  Well,  good-day,  good-day ;  I  won't  detain  you  from  your 
committee.  But  do  get  them  to  make  the  railways  less  dan- 
gerous and  less  noisy." 

"  The  moment  your  wishes  are  made  known  on  the  subject, 
depend  upon  it  those  highly  necessary  alterations  will  be  made," 
said  he,  this  time  escaping  in  good  earnest.  He  had  no  sooner 
drawn  a  long  breath  in  the  open  air,  and  found  himself  once 
more  in  the  Park,  than,  clenching  his  hands,  and  casting  his 
eyes  up  at  the  window  of  the  room  in  which  he  had  left  Edith, 
he  muttered,  with  a  look  that  Mephistophiles  might  have  en- 
vied, but  despaired  of  imitating — 

"  You  have  rejected,  but  you  have  not  escaped  me  !  " 


SECTIOl^  XI. 

"Eemember  me,  oh,  ruy  God,  for  good! " — IfeJi.  xiii.  31. 

"Bright  shines  the  sun — play,  beggars,  play; 
Here's  scraps  enough  to  serve  to-day."' — Frank  Davison. 

"  To  mortal  men  great  loads  allotted  he ; 
But  of  all  packs,  no  pack  like  poverty." 

Robert  HerricKs  Aphorisms. 

Please,  marm,  do  give  me  a  half-penny  for  playing,  "  Pop  goes 
the  weasel." 

"  Drat  the  weasel !  and  you  too  !  "What's  the  use  of  wea- 
sels popping,  I  should  like  to  know,  when  the  men  have  all  be- 
come foxes,  is  my  belief;  for  they  never  pop  now — pack  of  lazy, 
howdacious,  good-for-nothink,  hobstroplus  fellers  !  " 

The  above  charitable,  and  uncharitable,  dialogue  took  place 
over  a  somewhat  extensive  puddle  leading  to  the  pavement,  in 
that  charming  locale^  Tooley  Street,  in  the  Borough,  between  a 
young  gentleman  with  a  crownless  hat,  sunburnt  light  hair, 
naked  feet,  and  a  sharp,  keen,  hungry  look,  as  if  the  file  of 
starvation  was  gnawing  him  continually ;  and  an  immense 
quantity  of  black  crape  and  bombasin,  which  had  just  advanced 
one  Leander  of  a  foot  that  was  attempting  to  cross  the  Helles- 
pontic  puddle  aforesaid,  in  order  to  reach  the  Hero  who  had 
implored  her  charity  through  the  medium  of  a  very  asthmatic 
set  of  pandean  pipes,  from  which  he  had  been  endeavouring  to 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  271 

make  the  weasel  pop,  and  whose  shrill  squeaks  were  indeed 
sufficient  to  have  made  a  whole  colony  of  weasels  pop  to  the 
Antipodes. 

"  Hand  how  hold  are  yon,  pray  ? "  said  the  black  crape  to 
the  pipes,  as  soon  as  she  had  reached  terra-firma. 

"  Joe,  the  ostler  at  the  Tabard,  says  as  I  be  rising  ten  next 
grass." 

*'  Well  then,  hif  you're  ten,  you're  a  getting  a  big  boy,  and 
more  shame  your  mother  don't  send  you  to  school,  hinstead 
h  of  letting  hon  you  be  habout  the  streets  \vitli  them  plagues  of 
pipes,  perfect  nuisances  I  calls  'em." 

"I  haint  got  no  mother;  she  died  in  the  Union,  Joe  says, 
the  night  as  I  was  born." 

"  And  haint  you  got  no  ftither,  heither  ? " 

"  No,  I  never  had  no  father ;  leastways  Joe  says  as  my  fa- 
ther was  a  gentleman,  and  that's  the  same  thing  as  having  no 
father." 

"Hal  poor  little  feller!  gentleman,  indeed!  blackguards- 
I  call  'em.     But  what's  your  name  ? " 

"I  haven't  got  no  real  name  belonging  to  me,  but  they 
calls  me  Union  Jack,  on  'count  of  the  Union  being  the  only  re- 
lation I  knows  anything  about ;  and  Jack,  'cause  an  old  sailor 
with  two  wooden  legs,  as  used  to  go  about  the  streets  in  a  bowl, 
allowed  me  a  penny  a  day  while  he  hved  ;  but  he  died  last  win- 
ter." And  the  boy  brushed  a  tear  from  his  eye  with  his  ragged 
sleeve. 

"  Well,  but  this  Joe,  has  you  calls  him,  the  /^ostler  hat  the 
Tabard,  don't  he  know  nothink  about  you  ?  hand  haint  he  good 
to  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Joe  is  very  good  to  me  ;  he  lets  me  sleep  in  the 
loft  on  a  good  bundle  of  hay  every  night,  beside  his  own  bed ; 
and  when  he  brings  Boxer  his  supper,  he  always  takes  the  best 
bits  of  meat  out  of  it  for  me,  with  any  other  scraps  that  he  can 
get.  But  Joe  is  very  poor  himself,  and  his  old  father  and  mo- 
ther have  got  into  trouble  lately,  something  about  a  'lection,  and 


2.^2,  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

his  father  has  got  a  bad  leg  and  can't  workj  so  Joe  'lows  him 
all  he  can,  and  Joe  it  was  bought  me  these  pipes,  that  I  might 
try  and  earn  something  for  myself,  for  I'm  afeared  of  osses,  and 
can't  do  much  about  the  stable  beyond  carrying  a  pail  of  water 
or  so  for  Joe." 

"And  how  come  this  Joe  to  know  you,  for  he  seems  a  good 
sort  of  man  ? " 

"  Joe  !  he's  a  regular  brick  !  that's  his  ginral  character ;  but 
the  way  he  hnow'd  me  was,  that  he  kept  company  with  my 
mother,  and  they  was  to  have  been  married — only  he  says 
when  I  was  born  that  prevented  it,,  but  that  it  shall  never  pre- 
vent his  doing  all  he  can  for  me." 

"  Ha !  poor  man !  he  seems  to  'ave  jist  sich  another  feelings 
tender  art  has  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  'ad !  Do  you  think 
has  you  could  clean  knives,  and  shoes,  and  run  o'  herrands, 
hand  such  like,  hif  so  be  has  you  was  taken  hiuto  a  lady's, 
fam'ly,  and  given  your  food  and  lodging,  I  don^t  say  wages^ 
hat  least  till  you  can  do  somethink  more  to  earn  them.  But 
my  lady  is  very  charitable,  very  good  to  the  poor,  and  would 
do  more  so  had  she  the  means. — Ah  !  well,  that's  neither  here 
nor  there ;  but  hif  as  I  hears  a  good  character  hof  you  from 
this  here  Joe,  of  the  Tabard,  hand  I  was  to  take  you,  I'm  sure 
ony  lady  would  give  you  a  suit  of  clothes." 

At  these  joyful  tidings,  poor  Union  Jack's  eyes  actually 
sparkled.  He  was  sure  he  could  clean  knives,  and  shoes ;  and 
as  for  errands,  whenever  Joe  sent  him  of  one  he  always  said  he 
was  back  before  he  thought  he  had  had  time  to  get  to  the  place 
he  had  been  sent. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Bousefield,  excavating  from  her  profound 
pocket  a  black  leather  purse,  with  a  steel  elasp,  and  from  it 
presenting  Jack  with  the  mimificent  sum  of  sixpence,  which  he- 
seemed  to  think  quite  equivalent  to  having  been  to,  and  returned 
from,  the  Digg'ings, 

"  Will  you  go  hof  a  Kerrand  for  me  now  ?" 


BEHIND    TilE    SCENES.  ♦  2tS 

"Aye,  that  T  will,  marm,  to  tlie  world's  end  and  back,"  said 
the  grateful  Jack. 

"  Hith  konly  to  number  six  down  that  'ere  court,  hup  four 
j^'r  o'  staii-s,  to  one  ^Maurice  Roberts  who  works  has  a  shoe- 
maker. Poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  hand  I  'ave  employed  him 
for  years  and  years,  his  work  his  so  good,  hand  his  shoes  and 
boots,  two  shillings  a  pair  cheaper  than  hany  where  lielse. 
Well,  you  just  go  and  tell  him  that  Mrs.  Bousefield,  for  whom 
he  'ave  worked  for  so  many  years,  as  well  as  for  her  late  iisban, 
and  might  'ave  halso  worked  for  her  six  dear  hinfants ; — but 
the  Almighty  knows  best !  that  Mrs.  Bousefield,  you  tell  him, 
thinks  hit  very  hodd  that  her  two  p'r  o'  boots,  bordered  more 
than  six  weeks  ago,  his  not  done  yet.  I'd  go  myself,  and  give 
it  him  well,  but  that  I  hear  there  has  been  a  deal  hof  hillness 
about  hin  the  Borough,  hand  I'm  that  low,  hand  that  nervous, 
that  hany  body  might  knock  me  down  wdth  a  feather ! " 

Union  Jack,  wbo  had  opened  wide  both  his  eyes,  and  ears, 
and  kept  them  on  the  full  strain,  to  take  in  not  only  the  pith 
but  all  the  sahent  points  of  this  oration,  now  exclaimed,  as  he 
"doffed  his  crownless  hat,  to  scratch  the  back  part  of  his  head^* 

"Why,  marm,  Maurice  Roberts  be  Joe's  father;  and  as  I 
told  you,  he  have  had  a  bad  leg,  through  a  brickbat  as  was 
"throw'd  at  it  by  one  of  the  blues,  at  the  last  Frothington  'lec- 
tion ;  and  that's  the  reason,  no  doubt,  as  your  boots  aint  done'; 
for  it's  little  or  no  v/ork  he's  been  able  to  do  since." 

"Ah!  those  'orrid  'lections!"  said  Mrs.  Bousefield — "not 
but  what  in  our  way  of  business,  they  had  used  to  be  very  good 
things,  but  now,  I'm  sure  I  can't  see  no  use  in  'lections  and 
parliaments,  hunless  it  is  to  make  lawrs  to  purtect  the  devil, 
■  and  keep  him  uppermost  in  all  things.  Well,  you  tell  Roberts 
I'm  sorry  for  his  haccident,  but  should  be  glad  to  ave  my 
boots." 

Union  Jack  vanished  down  the  court,  leaving  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field in  the  street ;  who,  having  "  come  all  over  in  one  of  them 
dreadful  heats  ! "  leaned  against  the  lamp-post,  and  set  in  for 
12''' 


2rl4:  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

a  long  reverie,  upon  that  "  light  of  other  days  ! " — "  poor  dea/ 
Mr.  Bousefieid  !  "  in  order  to  while  away  the  time  till  her 
messenger  rt  Uirned.  And  she  had  not  long  resuscitated  from 
the  ashes  of  her  2:)hoenix-like  memory,  into  the  triune  glories  of 
Avife,  mother  (?),  and  landlady,  when  a  somewhat  unusual  thing 
in  Tooley  Street,  one  of  Baxter's  unexceptionable  cabriolets^ 
perfectly  appointed,  dashed  round  the  corner,  and  pulled  up  at 
the  curb-stone,  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  window.  From 
this  vehicle  Harold  Lancaster  now  alighted,  and  throwing  the 
reins  to  the  groom,  walked  on,  looking  inquii-ingly  up  and  down' 
the  houses,  on  either  side  ;  and  then  taking  a  card  case  out  of 
his  pocket,  he  referred  apparently  to  a  written  address  on  the 
back  of  one  of  them,  and  while  he  stopped  to  read  it — 

"Poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefieid,  and  the  six  dear  hinfants," 
(which  never  came  off!)  were  again  consigned  to  the  "silent 
tomb." 

"  Well,  thafs  my  liighdears  of  a  'andsome  man,"  solilo- 
quized Mrs.  Bousefieid,  as  she  hastily  cleared  tlie  ^'' first  heaV 
from  her  face,  w^ith  the  large  pocket  handkerchief,  and  then  half 
lowering  the  black  crape  drop-scene,  put  herself  in  battle  arrayo 

"Perhaps,"  said  he,  advancing  towards  her,  and  taking  off 
his  hat  with  as  much  respectful  courtesy  as  if  she  had  been  a, 
duchess,  "  you  can  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  wheieabout  in 
this  street  a  man  of  the  name  of  Maurice  Eoberts  lives,  who 
works  as  a  shoemaker,  not  in  a  shop  but  in  some  private  house. 
My  direction  says,  ]^o.  6,  but  I  don't  see  any  J^o.  G." 

"  I  shall  be  most  proud  and  'appy,  sir,  to  show  you  the 
way,"  responded  Mrs.  Bousefieid,  with  her  best  Fox  and  Fiddle 
curtsey.  "  He  w^as  a  man,  was  Roberts,  as  was  once  exceeding 
well  to  do  in  the  world ;  hand  'ave  worked  for  me  hand  my 
late  'usban,  poor  Mr.  Bousefieid,  for  a  many  years."  (Here  the 
pocket  handkerchief  was  again  ordered  on  active  service,  and 
had  a  skirmish  with  the  corners  of  her  eyes.)  "  But  hevry  one 
'as  their  hups  hand  downs  bin  this  world,  hand  none  hof  us 
knows  the  bins  and  bouts  hof  'em  but  them  has  'as  to  go  thn  -uo-h 


^eMind  the  scenes.  2ls 

fem.  Hit  his  down  this  here  court,  sir,  hand  hup  four  pair  of 
stairs,  sir, — I  should  say  by  no  means  a  place  befitting  for  a 
gentleman,  has  is  a  gentleman  like  yourself  to  go  to  ; — but  hif 
you  ^Yill  allow  me,  who  his  honly  a  servant,  though  once  in  a 
very  large  way  hof  business,  has  a  married  ooman,  I  shall  he 
very  'appy  to  take  hany  message  for  you  to  Roberts,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,- — I'm  extremely  obliged  to  you  ;  but  it  is  a 
commission  with  which  I  have  been  entrusted,  and  therefore  I 
must  execute  it  myself.  But  as  you  have  been  good  enough  to 
tell  me  wdiere  I  am  to  go,  I  don't  see  why  I  should  encroach 
further  on  your  time,  by  giving  you  the  trouble  of  accompany- 
ing me,"  concluded  he,  with  another  bow,  quite  as  graceful  and 
as  well-bred  as  his  former  one  ;  but  this  time  intended  for  a 
farewell  salutation; 

Alas  !  how  little  ai'e  philosophers  any  more  than  fish  able  to 
calculate  their  chances  of  escape  ;  and  what  a  captured  salmon 
or  greyling  is  in  the  way  of  utter  helplessness  against  the  not-to- 
be  avoided  destruction  of  Walton's  mystical  receipt  of  ivy  juice. 
— so  was  any  ill-fated  mortal  of  the  male  sex,  once  hooked  by 
Mrs.  Bousefield  ! 

"  Ho  1  dear  sir,  I  could  not  think  of  letting  hon  you  find 
your  way  alone,  hup  them  'orrid  dark  stairs — the  dingiest, 
screakingest  things  has  hever  was.  I  bought  to  know  some- 
thing hof  the  dismals,  'aving  buried  a  good  'usband  and  six 
dear  hinfants ;  but  in  burj^ing  a  iusband  !  there  is  that  peace 
which  the  world  cannot  give,  hand  life  hever-Iasting  to  look  to, 
— -wherchof  going  up  them  stairs  of  Maurice  Roberts  there  haint 
nothing  to  look  to  hexcept  breaking  hon  one's  neck." 

"  An  additional  reason,"  said  Lancaster  with  a  smile,  "  why 
I  should  not  risk  yours  as  well  as  my  own." 

But  seeing  that  Mrs.  Bousefield's  resolves  were  like  the  de-' 
crees  of  fate,  irrevocable  !  he,  with  true  good-breeding — that 
adaptive  courtesy  which  descends  to  inferiors,  quite  as  scrupu- 
loushj,  as  it  ascends  to  superiors,  or  equals,  slackened  his  own 


S?6  i3EHIND    THE    SdENESi 

SO  as  to  fall  in  with  ber  loitering,  gossipping  pace,  as  she  led  thd 
way  down  the  court  where  Roberts  lived. 

In  truth  she  bad  not  exaggerated,  either  the  obscurity  or  the 
insecurity  of  the  miserable  stairs  leading  to  the  poor  shoemaker's 
garret ;  for  in  an  inverse  ratio,  as  much  as  golden  wealth  pin- 
ioned through  luxury,  and  refinement,  pampers  the  senses  of 
its  votaries,  so  does  the  witch  Poverty  punish  those  of  her  vic- 
tims, through  privation  and  all  the  offal  of  existence  1 

"  It  his  deplorable  dark,  to  be  sure,''  murmured  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field,  elevating  her  becraped  petticoats  full  three  inches  higher, 
as  she  stopped,  ostensibly  to  take  breath,  at  the  first  landings 
where  the  daylight  w^as  in  pursuit  of  an  entrance  imder  difficul- 
ties, through  a  window,  whose  panes  had  lost  their  original 
transparency  and  become  opaque  with  the  unmolested  smoke 
and  dirt  of  years,  but  through  which  a  faint  ray  still  struggled, 
sufficient,  the  widow  thought,  for  "  any  man  as  had  the  use  of  his 
hyes  "  to  see  what  ^'' poor  dear  Mrs.  Bousefield  used  to  call  an 
unco'nimon  neat  foot  and  hancle ;  hand  sutenly  ''aving  lived  with 
the  Dowager  Countess  of  Coddlecat  for  so  many  years^  he 
ought  to  know  whaCs  what  I  " 

But  Mr.  Lancaster  apparently  did  not,  doubtless  from  not 
having  the  same  advantages  ;  for,  on  turning  suddenly  round, 
he  beheld  his  looks  sent  on  like  avant  couriers, — to  the  next 
landing  with  a  slight  expression  of  impatience,  as  if  but  for  the 
impeding  mass  of  weeds  befc»*e  him,  his  feet  would  also  have 
franchised  that  additional  space.  But  out  of  the  dark  crucible 
of  adverse  circumstances,  the  pure  ore  of  good  is  ever  beino- 
wrought ;  and  oh !  Bousefield !  notwithstanding  that  thou 
hadst  lived  and  died  under  the  aggravated  patronymic  of  Jede- 
DiAH  ! — still,  all  things  in  nature  and  in  art  were  ever  conspir- 
ing to  offer  fresh  ovations  to  thy  manes,  for  all  things  made  the 
memory  of  thy  disconsolate  widow 

"  More  fondly  turn  to  thee," 

and  eren  on  the  present  occasion,  she  observed  to  herself  with 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  277 

a  sigh,  as  she  reached  the  second  landing,  and  lowered  the  stan- 
dards  of  woe,  the  three  inches  she  had  before  raised  them — 

"  Ha !  hit  may  be  all  very  well  has  far  has  happearances 
and  hoiitward  show  goes ;  but  hin  real  judgment  hand  taste, 
and  knowing  what  his  due  to  a  'ooraan,  hin  the  way  hof  hat- 
tention — the  whole  lot  on  'em  put  together,  haint  worth  one 
hof  the  hairs  of  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield's  whiskers — /  know  !  '^ 

And  thus  Bousefield,  like  "  Beauty,"  drew  her 

" With  a  sinjrle  hair  !  " 


When  they  had  at  length  arrived  at  the  eaves  of  .this  mise- 
rable house,  Lancaster  remembeiing  that  Mrs.  Bousefield  had 
informed  him  that  she  "  was  only  a  servant,"  placed  a  sovereign 
in  her  hand,  as  he  turned  round  to  thank  and  to  apologize  to 
her  for  the  trouble  he  had  given  her. 

"  Oh,  dear  sir ! — don't  mention  it ;  the  trouble's  a  pleasure^ 
I'm  sure  ;  hand  has  for  this  " —  looking  at,  without  however  at- 
tempting to  return,  the  money, — for  next  to  gallantry,  Mrs. 
Bousefield  considered  that  gold  was  the  truest  test  of  a  gentle- 
man— "  there  haint  the  slightest  occasion  for  nothink  of  the 
sort.  Allow  me,  sir,"  added  she,  advancing  a  step  or  two  in  or- 
der to  fling  open  the  door ;  but  he  prevented  her,  saying — 

"  Stop  ;  we  had  better  knock  first." 

Having  done  so,  a  low  growl,  and  then  a  deep-toned  barkj 
responded  to  the  appeal. 

"  Down,  Eos, — down,  sir,"  said  a  voice  from  the  room,  after 
which  it  added — "  Come  in  ! " 

This  room  at  its  highest  point  was  very  low,  but  in  one  half 
of  it  it  was  impossible  for  even  a  moderate-vsized  person  to  stand 
upright,  on  account  of  the  slanting  projection  of  the  roof.  Out- 
side a  flock  bed,  covered  with  a  patchwork  quilt,  and  placed 
against  the  window  for  the  benefit  of  the  light,  lay  Maurice  Ro- 
berts, a  dark,  sallow  man  of  about  five-and-fifty,  Avith  thin,  par- 
tially grey  hair,  and  dark  eyes  that  might  have  been  bright  had 
they  not  been  so  deeply  simken  in  his  head.     Despite  the  bad 


^^8  BEtilND    TilB    SCENES. 

leg  which  was  evidently  the  cause  of  his  reclining  position,  he 
had  on  his  leather  apron,  and  was  at  work  on  a  pair  of  pru- 
nella boots,  which  were  doubtless  Mrs.  Bousefield's.  At  the 
foot  of  the  bed  stood  Union  Jack,  who  had  just  delivered  her 
message  ;  and  who,  not  to  stand  Avith  his  hands  before  him, 
had  seized  upon  a  strip  of  leather  which  he  was  busily  perfora- 
ting with  an  awl,  while  beside  the  bed  sat  Alciphron  Murray, 
who  had  been  attentively  listening  to  a  long  history  of  the 
cause  of  his  misfortunes,  which  Roberts  had  been  narrating  to 
him  ;  while  at  his  feet  Eos  lay  stretched  at  full  length,  his  fore 
paws  forming  two  ramparts  for  his  nose.  In  the  centre  of  the 
room,  midway  between  the  projecting  beam  of  the  ceiling  and 
tbe  bedstead,  was  Margaret  Roberts, — Maurice's  wife, — a  had- 
been  pretty  woman,  with  no  remains  of  good  looks,  beyond  ra- 
ther delicate  features,  very  pale  and  much  wrinkled  cheeks,  and 
eyes  that  looked  as  if  they  had  cried  all  their  colour  out  of 
them.  Her  figure,  as  is  generally  the  case  in  persons  of  her 
class,  was  the  worst  part  of  her ;  for,  although  thin  to  attenua- 
tion, she  had  one  of  those  enormously  thick,  flat  waists  which 
only  common  women  manage  to  achieve,  and  its  shortness  of 
course  added  to  its  circumference.  Nevertheless,  her  dress  (con- 
sisting of  a  blue-and-white  cotton  gown,  and  a  check  apron) 
was  scrupulously  clean,  with  the  exception  of  an  old  gi-devant 
black  velvet  bonnet,  now  of  a  fuzzy  browai,  as  if  turning  into 
moss,  perched  on  the  top  of  her  head,  and  of  that  cross-breed 
shape,  between  a  spout  and  a  coalscuttle,  peculiar  to  charwo- 
men. In  this  couvre-chef,  more  substantial  than  elegant,  Mar- 
garet Roberts  was  now  bending  over  a  consumptive  fire  in  the 
narrow,  rusty  grate,  and  peering  occasionally  into  a  tin  sauce-^ 
pan,  to  superintend  the  progress  of  a  preparation  that  M.  Soyer 
would  not  exactly  have  denominated  puree  aux — pommes  de 
terre,  although  a  portion  of  that  vegetable  entered  into  its  com- 
position ;  the /o?irZ  of  which  consisted  in  a  couple  of  handfuls  of 
oatmeal,  in  about  a  quart  of  w^ater,  to  which  she  every  now  and 
then  added,  from  a  wooden  bowl  beside  her,  as  many  handful? 


££HIND    THE    SCENES.  'iW 

of  raw  potato  pavings :  while  all  the  attention  she  could  spare 
from  her  ciilin^iry  occupation  she  divided  equally  between  a 
clean  calico  shirt,  that  was  hanging  to  air  over  a  velveteen 
jacket  on  a  low  wooden  nursing  chair,  and  a  pepper-and-salt 
worsted  stocking  she  was  knitting.  Save  the  bed,  three  chairs, 
and  a  largish  sized  deal  table,  other  furniture  the  garret  had 
none,  with  the  exception  of  a  large,  old,  plain,  smooth  oak  box, 
more  like  those  used  for  flour  bins  in  country  cottages:  and 
above  which  was  a  deal  shelf,  containing  four  delf  plates,  two 
blue  mugs,  a  cracked  teacup  and  saucer,  two  knives  and  steel- 
pronged  forks,  two  iron  spoons,  a  blue  teapot — the  cover  tied 
pn  with  a  piece  of  twine, — and  a  tin  match-box,  forming  a  can- 
dlestick,  into  which  was  stuck  about  four  inches  of  rush-light. 
While  over  the  mantelpiece  was  one  flat-iron,  a  small  Italian 
iron,  a  kettle-holder  made  of  brown  stuft",  and  a  large,  square, 
and  very  plethoric-looking  pincushion,  the  only  well-fed  looking 
thing  in  the  place,  for  all  the  world  like  a  green  baize  and  bran 
model  of  an  alderman^  who  had  been  made  a  Poor  Law  Com- 
missioner. 

Mrs.  Bousefield  had  originally  intended  protectiog  Mr.  Lan  - 
caster  through  his  interview  with  the  Roberts's,  but  no  sooner 
had  she  caught  sight  of  Murray,  than  "  coming  all  over  in  one 
of  them  terrible  heats  f^''  and  at  the  same  time  feeling  a  ten- 
dency to  that  pecTiliar  species  of  feathery  epilepsy  to  which  she 
was  so  subject,  she  rushed  down  the  stairs,  to  use  her  own  ex- 
pression, "  like  a  cat  from  a  larder — with  the  cook  after  it," — ■ 
and  made  the  best  of  her  way  to  "  The  Tabard,"  to  enquire  into 
Union  Jack's  antecedents,  and  recruit  her  spirits  with  a  glass  of 
port  wine,  which  w\as  what  '•  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield,  wdio  w^as 
a  man  has  understood  what  females  required,  always  used  to 
prescribe  for  any  of  her  complaints,  whether  mental  or  physical. 
But  though  she  was  that  weak,  and  that  loiv,  that  she  did  not 
know  how  to  bear  herself,  she  inust  say  she  should  like  to  know 
what  could  take  a  gentleman  of  that  appearance  and  manncF 


280  BEiiiND    THE    SCENES. 

to  the  Roberts's.  For  thoiigli  ladies  was  hexceedingly  charita- 
ble sometimes,  sending  their  maids,  hand  heven  going  their- 
selves  to  such  places  ;  gentlemen  was  quite  different,  consider- 
ing that  hi/  they  gave  their  money  that  was  quite  enough,  has 
indeed  she  thought  it  was,  without  poking  hinto  such  low-lived 
places.  However,  she  must  come  hinto  Southwark  the  next 
day  to  see  hafter  that  hare  charity  boy,  has  she  'ad  promised  to 
do  for  him ;  hand  her  name  was  not  Sushanner  Bousefield  hif 
she  did  not  find  it  all  out." 

Leaving  Mrs.  Bousefield  to  pursue  her  way  to  "'  The  Ta- 
bard "  alone  (for  as  she  used  to  say  to  "  poor  dear  Mr.  Bouse- 
field "  upon  the  rare  occasions  that  she  did  take  a  glass  of  port 
wine,  she  '•  hated  people  to  be  following  kon,  hand  looking  hat 
her  "),  we  will  return  to  Harold  Lancaster.  As  soon  as  he  had 
followed  the  permission  to  enter,  Murray  and  he,  having  ex- 
changed salutations,  though  strangers  to  each  other,  and  Eos, 
with  that  fine  tact  which  all  dogs  possess  for  detecting  and  ap- 
preciating those  of  gentle  birth,  having  sniffed  round  his  boots, 
and  given  him  an  amicable  wag  of  the  tail,  he  drew  a  letter 
from  his  pocket,  Margaret  Roberts  suspending  her  avocations 
the  while,  and  curtseying  down  to  the  ground ;  while  her  hus- 
band pulled  the  front  lock  of  his  hair ;  both  of  which  saluta^ 
tions  the  new  arrival  separately  returned. 

"  You'll  ea;-cuse  my  rising,  sir,"  said  Roberts ;  "  but  I'm 
troubled  with  a  bad  leg." 

"  Pray,  don't  stir  on  any  account,"  rejoined  Lancaster,  see- 
ing that  he  made  an  effort  to  advance  more  to  the  edge  of  the 
bed,  "  I  have  merely  called  at  the  request  of  the  Duchess  of 
Lidd^sdale,  who  received  a  letter  by  the  post  last  night  from  a 
person  signing  himself  "Joe  Roberts,  ostler,  at  The  Tabard, 
Southwark,"  about  a  young  pei*son  of  the  name  of  Fanny  Par- 
ker, who  once  lived  as  under  housemaid  in  the  Duchess's  ser- 
vice. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Roberts,  adding  with  a  slight  push  to  en- 
foTce  his  commands,  "  There,  he  off",  -Jack,  and  tell  Mrs.  Bouse- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  281 

iield,  that,  if  possible,  she  shall  have  one  pair  of  her  boots  next 
Aveet."  Jack  vanished,  mucli  against  his  will ;  for  since  the 
entrance  of  that  gentleman,  he  had  stood  contemplating  Mr. 
Lancaster  much  with  the  same  breathless  wonder  and  admira- 
tion with  which  for  the  first  time  after  having  climbed  to  the 
Belvedere  one  beholds  the  Apollo  I 

Seeing  that  he  had  produced  a  letter,  and  was  about  to  read 
it,  Murray  also  rose,  and  prepared  to  depart ;  merely  saying  as 
he  gave  Roberts  a  good-sized  but  plainly-bound  Bible, — 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  alarm  yourself  about  that  gentle- 
man's threats ;  for  his  own  sake,  he  will  hardly  like  to  stir 
about  the  matter.  But  study  this  book  well — you  will  find  in 
it  all  you  want,  and  better  counsel,  and  more  comfort  than  I  can 
give  you.  Trust  to  God's  ^Vord,  and  you  need  not  fear  any 
man's  perjury.  Take  care  of  youreelf ;  I'll  look  in  upon  you 
again  next  week ;  and  Mrs.  Roberts  be  sure  to  get  the  things  I 
have  written  down  for  his  leg ;  and  let  him  have  a  little  old 
tent  wine." 

"  All  I  sir,  it's  easy  talking  !  "  said  Margaret  Roberts,  shak- 
ing her  head,  and  dropping  another  curtsey,  as  Murray,  with  a 
parting  bow  to  Mr.  Lancaster,  followed  by  Eos,  left  the  room. 

"  Here,  wife,"  said  Roberts,  "  take  care  of  this  here  Bible, 
I'd  like  to  read  it  oftener,  well  enough  ;  only  I've  no  time  like 
by  day,  and  can't  afford  light  o'  nights." 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  it's  like  ordering  of  you  wine  and  such 
like.  I  should  like  to  know  w^here  poor  people  is  to  get  such 
things — God  help  us  1 "  And  as  she  took  the  sacred  volume 
from  her  husband's  hand,  a  small  folded  paper  fell  at  her  feet. 

"  You  have  dropped  something,"  said  Lancaster,  stooping  to 
pick  it  up,  and  giving  it  to  her.  She  was  some  time  before,  her 
horny  fingers  could  master  its  flimsy  texture  sufficiently  to  open 
it;  when  she  did  so,  it  turned  out  to  be  a  £0  note. 

"  You  see  God  has  helped  you,  my  good  woman,"  said  Lan- 
caster !  "  and  though  he  may  not  always  do  so  in  this  sort  of 
instantaneous  and   unexpected  manner,  depend  upon  it,  those 


282  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

who  appeal  to  Him  with  constancy  and  sincerity  never  do  so  in 
vain." 

"  He  has  indeed  helped  us  !  "  cried  Margaret  Roberts,  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  and  falling  upon  her  knees,  as  the  tears  coursed 
each  other  down  her  withered  cheeks  ; — "  and,  oh  !  may  He 
also  bless  that  good,  kind  gentleman  whom  He  has  sent  to  us  in 
our  hour  of  need." 

"  Amen,"  responded  Lancaster.  "  And  now  I  will  read  you 
this  letter  which  brought  me  here  this  morning,  and  you  may 
be  able  to  give  me  some  further  particulars  respecting  the 
affair." 

"  Aye,  sure,  sir,"  said  Roberts,  wiping  his  eyes  with  the 
back  of  his  sleeve ;  "  but  I  be  most  ashamed  to  ax  a  gentleman 
like  you  to  sit  down  in  such  a  poor  place  as  ourn." 

Whereupon  Margaret  flew  across  the  room  for  the  best — 
that  is  the  least  torn — rush-bottomed  chair ;  and  after  having 
carefully  flipped  and  dusted  it  with  her  apron,  was  about  to 
bring  it  over  to  "  the  sU'ange  gentleman^''  which  he  prevented, 
by  going  for  it  himself,  in  order  to  save  her  the  trouble ;  and 
seating  himself  upon  it,  he  read  out 

JOE    THE    ostler's    LETTER 
TO    THE    DUCHESS    OF    LIDDESDALE. 

"  May  it  pleese  yr  grase — 
"Who  in  course  knows  nothing  of  me,  but  i  knowing  of  a 
long  time  as  your  grase  is  a  good  and  charitable  lady,  whose 
charity  is  greater  than  yr  rank,  and  thinks  more  of  being  a 
Christian  w^oraau  than  a  great  lady,  i  makes  bold — tho'  far 
from  being  able,  to  groom  a  pen  as  i  can  a  oss,  to  interseed  with 
yr  grase,  for  a  poor  hunfortinet  little  critter,  the  son  of  poor 
Fanny  Parker,  who  as  your  grases  ousekeeper,  Mrs.  Melvil,  can 
tell  you,  once  lived  as  under  ousemaid  with  your  grase,  and 
was  as  good  a  girl  as  ever  was,  till  the  devil  got  hold  of  her, 
calling  his  self  a  gentleman,  one  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  now  a 
Parliament  man,  and  wat  they  calls  one  of  the  rulers  of  the 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  283 

nasbun.  Poor  Fanny  then  went  to  the  bad  entirely  ;  but  she 
was  soon  sarvecl  out  for  it — for  wen  this  fine  gent  got  her  into 
trouble  he  deserted  her,  and  she  had  to  go  to  the  Union,  where 
her  sin  and  sorrow  ended  in  a  sun,  who  is  now  on  the  wide 
world  a  starving,  i  tried  to  keep  life  and  sole  in  un  as  long  as 
i  could  ;  but  this  Ferrars,  who  seems  to  have  been  born  for  the 
cuss  of  the  poor,  got  my  poor  old  father  into  trouble  with  Hes 
and  fals  promises  at  his  last  Lection,  which  have  throwd  him 
out  of  work,  so  i  be  blijed  to  low  him  the  little  i  can.  All  the 
paticklers  of  which  lection  business  yr  grase  can  learn  by 
sending  some  one  to  No.  G,  —  Court,  Tooley  St.  Borough,  to 
see  that  i  aint  a  telling  on  you  no  lies,  like  them  ere  begging- 
letter  posters,  as  is  continually  a  being  tooket  up  in  the  noose- 
papers.  And  so  not  being  able  any  longer  to  do  anything  for 
poor  Jack,  Fanny  Parker's  horphin,  who  in  course  is  not  spon- 
sible for  his  father  and  mother's  misdeeds,  i  come  to  implore 
your  grases  charity  and  compassion  for  him  ;  but  seeing  as  poor 
Fanny's  misfortin  can't  have  no  claim  upon  your  grase,  but  quite 
tother  way,  i  must  inform  your  grase,  that  afore  i  cum  a  troub- 
hn  on  you,  I  plied  to  the  proper  quarter,  I  mean  to  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars  rich  ole  ant.  Lady  Mammonton,  as  ad  the  bring- 
ing on  him  up,  and  encouraging  him  on  in  all  his  wickedness ; 
but  lor!  it  was  like  trying  to  put  pity  into  the  stone  walls  o' 
Newo-ate.  She  did  nothink  but  hold  with  her  nevev  and  abuce 
poor  Fanny,  calling  on  her  all  sorts  o'  ugly  names,  saying  that 
poor  Henry,  as  she  called  her  nevey,  was  only  a  boy  of  nineteen, 
and  that  Fanny  was  twenty,  so  that  it  must  have  been  all  her 
fault ;  and  begged  she  might  hear  no  more  of  her  and  her  work- 
house brat.  At  this  my  blood  began  a  biling,  so  i  ups  and  i 
tells  her  for  all  she  was  so  rich,  her  money  would  do  her  no  good, 
as  she  could  not  take  it  back  to  the  devil  with  her ;  and  for  all 
she  thought  herself  such  a  great  lady,  she  was  far  uglier  and 
a  deal  more  wishus  than  the  Pottimus  at  the  Zoologican  Gar- 
dens, to  leave  her  grand  nevey  (for  sich  Jack  is  by  the  laws  of 
natur,  in  spite  of  all  the  hacts  of  parleyment)  to  die  of  starva- 


284  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tiou.  At  this  she  ^yas  in  sicli  a  fury,  that  she  ordered  two  of 
her  great  powdered  baboons  of  footmen  to  turn  me  out  of  the 
ouse  ;  but  when  they  attempted  to  lay  a  hand  ujDon  me,  though 
i  hadn't  got  my  pitchfork  with  me,  i  soon  pitched  into  them, 
and  scattered  'em  right  and  left  iihe  a  litter.  It  is  for  this  rea- 
son— cause  there  aint  no  good  to  be  got  out  of  those  Ferrars's, 
who  is  a  bad  lot,  seed, breed,  and  generation — that  I  have  made 
bold  to  hintrude  upon  your  grase,  knowing  wat  a  deal  your 
grase  has  already  lent  to  the  Lord,  for,  as  the  Bible  says,  'Who 
giveth  to  the  poor  lendeth  to  the  Lord.'  i  do  ope  your  grase 
will  lend  him  a  little  more  (for  better  security  there  can't  be), 
by  doing  summut  for  this  poor  little  destitute  Jack  ;  either  by 
getting  of  him  into  some  charitable  hinstitooshun,  which,  at  all 
events,  is  a  decent  and  spectable  sort  of  starvation,  or  doing  any- 
think  else  for  him  that  yr  grases  goodness  may  see  fit.  And  if 
so  be  as  your  grase  is  not  oflfended  at  my  aving  made  so  bold 
as  to  have  sent  you  this  letter,  and  is  condescending  enough  to 
take  any  notice  of  it,  you  will  be  pleased  to  send  your  messen- 
ger to  No.   6 Court,  Tooley  Street,  Borrough,  which  is 

where  my  Father  and  Mother  liv^es,  as  i  should  not  like  the  peo- 
ple at  the  Tabard  to  know  anythink  about  poor  Jack's  con- 
cerns, 

"  And  now  I  remain  untill  death,  with  every  respec,  your 
grases  most  obedient  and  most  humbel  servant, 

"JOE  ROBERTS, 

"  Ostler  at 

"  The  Tabard  Inn,  Southwark. 

"June  14th,  18— ." 

"  I  conclude,  therefore,"  said  Mr.  Lancaster,  as  he  finished 
reading  this  letter,  "  that  you  are  this  Joe  Roberts's  father,  as 
he  herein  states ;  and  the  reason  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale 
asked  me  to  come  and  inquire  into  this  business  was,  that  the 
Duke  not  being  here  she  did  not  like  entrusting  the  matter  to  a 
servant.     So  now  tell  me  all  you  know  about  this  poor  boy,  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES,  285 

I  have  no  doubt  but  she  will  do  all  she  can  to  aid  your  son  in 
his  benevolent  intentions  towards  him." 

"  Bless  you,  sir,  it's  an  old  story  soon  told,  about  poor  Fanny 
Parker ; — but  that's  her  child  as  I  sent  out  when  you  come  in. 
It's  all  true  what  Joe  says  in  his  letter  about  the  villany  of  that 
Ferrars  ;  but  what  Joe  didn't  say  is,  sir,  that  he  and  Fanny 
Parker  kept  company  eleven  years  ago,  and  was  to  have  been 
married.  When  this  Ferrars,  a  boy,  as  his  aunt  calls  him — aye, 
a  mere  boy  in  yeare,  but  a  regular  thorough-going  Beelzebub  in 
wickedness ;  which  makes  it  worse  to  my  thinking — for  some 
gets  full-blown  in  vice  at  the  fii-st  starting,  so  that  they  never  is 
to  say,  young — being  old  in  wickedness  directly.  Well,  this 
here  Ferrars  meets  poor  Fanny  at  Waxhall  or  Creemoime,  or 
some  of  the  devil's  drawing-room  places,  and  if  he  don't  fool 
the  girl  into  believing  that  he  was  a  gentleman's  walley  out  on 
a  spree  like  ;  and  from  one  thing  to  another  he  gets  on  till  he 
deludes  her  wdth  a  mock  marriage;  and  when  he  compassed 
her  ruin,  he  leaves  her  on  the  wide  world  to  starve.  So  the 
poor  creetur  had  nothing  for  it  but  the  Union — and  there  the 
Lord  had  compassion  on  her,  and  she  died.  But  sin  must  al- 
ways have  a  wictim  ;  and  like  the  sacrifices  of  the  Jews  that 
we  reads  on  in  the  Bible,  it  always  must  be  something  hinno- 
cent — a  kid,  or  a  lamb,  or  a  child, — and  so  in  Fanny  Parker's 
sin,  poor  Jack  was  the  wictim." 

"  I  think,"  interrupted  Mr.  Lancaster,  "  that  you  should 
rather  say,  in  Mr.  Ferrars'  sin  ;  for  the  poor  girl  seems  to  have 
been  basely  deceived." 

"  Tit  for  tat,  sir  ;  tit  for  tat  I — for  she  deceived  our  Joe,  who 
had  like  to  have  died  of  it ;  and  it  w^as  an  out-and-out  sin  to  de- 
ceive one  as  doted  on  the  very  ground  she  walked  on.  And  the 
worst  of  these  sort  of  sins — indeed  of  all  sins — is,  that  no  one 
ever  can  say  or  guess  where  the  mischief  of  'em  hends ;  as  soon 
as  you  think  it  have  died  away,  it  is  sure  to  break  out  like  the 
cholera  in  a  fresh  quarter.  Well,  what  does  Joe  do — never  able 
to  get  this  girl  o'  of  his  head — but  brings  Jack  from  the  Ujiion, 


286  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

home  to  his  mother  and  me,  'cause  we  had  not  too  many  mouths 
and  too  little  bread  already  !     But,  as  he  truly  said  in  the  midst 
of  all  his  raving — and  we  was  glad  to  hear  one  sensible  remark 
to  shew  that  he  had  not  gone  clean  out  of  his  mind  altogether, 
— '  Kever  grumble,  mother,'  says  he,  '  it's  not  the  poor  child's 
fault ;  and  you  know  what  the  Bible  says — "  The  merciful  shall 
find  mercy."  '     So  not  being  able  to  gainsay  that,  we  took  the 
child,  and  kept  him  till  he  was  old  enough  to  bide  in  the  stable 
along  with  Joe.     But  here  was  the  o?zluckiest  part  of  the  whole 
business,  sir — for  all  my  misfortins  have  come  through  it ;  Joe 
not  only  forbid  his  mother  and  me  to  tell  any  one  who  Jack's 
mother  was ;  but  he  makes  a  grand  secret  of  who  his  father 
^vas,  and  never  could  we  get  it  out  of  him,  not  even  when  my 
missus  have  been  put  out  with  the  boy,  and  to  taunt  Joe,  have 
said — *  Oh  !  no  doubt,  Jack  is  a  great  man !  for,  as  we  have 
never  heard  of  any  other,  of  course  his  father  is  the  man  in  the 
moon  ! '     Still  Joe  w^as  as  close  as  w' ax.     Well,  sir,  I  never  be- 
gan to  be  ruined  till   I  began  to  get  on,  and  tried  to  get  up  in 
the  world.     As  long  as  I  stuck  to  my  last,  my  last  stuck  to  me; 
but  having  saved  up  a  matter  of  £160,  or  thereabouts,  the  devil 
put  it  into  my  head  to  buy  a  patch  of  ground  at  Frothinton, 
which  made  me  a  £10  voter — and  then  it  w^as  I  took  to  poli- 
tics   and    publics — goose-clubs    and   free-and-easies — and,    in 
course,  neglecting  my  work,  my  customers  began  to  neglect  me. 
Till  about  this  time  twelvemonth,  I  was  beginning  to  get  a  little 
out  at  elbows — and  if,  even  then,  I'd  been  said  by  my  missus, 
and  given  up  the  clubs  and  the  politics,  and  taken  ag'in  steadily 
to  my  work,  I  might  have  done  well  even  then  ;  but  instead  of 
that — to  drive  away  care,  which  always  bounds  back  to  us  like 
a  cricket-ball,  when  we  tries  to  fiing  her  from  us  in  them  there 
violent  sort  of  ways — what  does  I  do,  but  live  a'most  as  it  were, 
in  the  taproom  of  the  '  Magpie  and  Stump,'  where  the  Liberals, 
as  they  calls  theirselves,  had  a  free-and-easy.     And  when  the 
'lection  corned  on,  one  Slimey craft,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  lieyer, 
gets  hold  on  me,  and  tells  me  that  hif  so  be  as  I  will  wote  for 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  287 

Ferrai's — ^vliicli  was  one  aiid  the  same  thing  as  woting  forhber- 
ty !  independence,  and  the  rights  of  the  people  I — and  get  as 
many  of  my  friends  at  the  chib  to  do  the  same — he  would  give 
me  £10  for  my  own  wote,  and  £10  for  each  wote  as  I  got  him. 
Only  I  was  to  be  sure  and  not  hint  a  word  of  this  to  mortal,  as 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  knowd  nothink  about  it ;  and,  indeed, 
that  he  should  not  account  with  me  for  the  wotes  till  after  the 
close  of  the  poll,  as  the  ho\)^osite  party  had  an  ugly  trick  of  call- 
ing any  monies  given  for  wotes  beforehand — bribery  ;  whereas, 
what  was  paid  arter,  only  come  under  the  head  of  gratitude. 
'  For,  Mr.  Slimey craft,  sir ; '  says  I,  '  if  this  here  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  is  such  a  great  man  as  you  says,  and  such  a  friend  to  the 
people,  and  all  for  upholding  our  rights  and  privileges,  and  all 
that — he  shall  have  my  wote  and  welcome,  and  I  don't  want  no 
money  for  it.'  '  Tut,  tut,'  says  the  wretch,  a  quoting  Scripture 
— as  we  know  the  devil  can  do  to  suit  his  purposes — '  Tut,  tut, 
man,'  says  he,  '  the  labourer  is  worthy  of  his  hire  ;'  and  I  assure 
you  Avhen  you  know  more  of  Ferrars  and  liberty  !  you'll  know 
that  he  is  the  very  last  man  to  take  up  a  poor  mechanic's  time, 
and  benefit  by  his  zealous  services,  without  handsomely  remu- 
nerating him  for  it.  Besides,'  he  says,  '  Roberts,'  says  he,  '  in 
gaining  over  your  friends  to  the  right  side,  you  will  be  put  to 
some  little  expense,  for  you  must  never  flinch  from  getting  them 
to  drink  the  Liberal  member's  health,  for  I  always  remark  that 
the  polling  never  goes  on  with  such  spirit  as  when  the  goes  of 
gin  and  brandy  have  not  been  spared !  Well,  sir,  will  you  be- 
lieve that  I  wor  such  a  hass — as,  indeed,  most  of  us  £10  woters 
is — as  to  swaller  all  this  ? — and  afore  the  first  day's  polling  was 
over,  I  had  stood  treat  at  the 'Magpie  and  Stump' — such  was 
the  terrible  thirst  of  liberty  !  for  ale,  wine,  gin,  and  brandy  !  to 
the  tune  of  £15.  But  the  worst  was  yet  to  come,  for  at  the 
close  of  the  poll,  as  I  and  my  party,  as  I  foolishly  called  'em,  was 
marching  in  triumph  back  to  the  '  Magpie  and  Stump,'  to  make 
still  greater  noodles  of  ourselves,  one  of  Trueman  the  defeat- 
ed member's  party,  hurled  a  brick-bat  at  random  amongst  us, 


288  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

which  caught  me  just  m  the  calf  of  the  leg.  This  effectually 
sobered  me  ;  and  though  it's  only  twenty  mile  from  Frothinton 
to  town,  I  had  great  difficulty  in  bearing  the  motion  of  the  train, 
and  I  thought  I  should  have  died  afore  I  got  home ;  and  the 
cab  from  the  station  cost  me  four  shillings.  Nor  was  this  the 
worst  of  it ;  for  a  man  never  brings  home  a  hamper  of  troubles, 
but  what  he  is  sure  to  find  a  still  larger  hamper  there  waiting 
for  him ! — and  sure  enough,  when  Joe  comed  in,  and  hcerecl  as 
I  had  not  only  give  my  wote  and  hinterest  to  ISlr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars ;  but  had  got  others  to  do  so  too,  through  all  of  which 
he  had  been  returned,  than  Joe  goes  off  just  like  a  madman  or 
a  biler  that  had  busted ;  and  then  tells  us  for  the  fust  time  all 
about  this  here  Ponsonby  Ferrrars  ;  saying,  that  a  month  afore 
her  death,  Fanny  Parker  had  found  out  who  her  betrayer  was, 
and  had  confided  it  to  Joe,  who  had  vowed  to  bide  his  time, 
and  never  lose  sight  of  him.  '  Well,  Joe,'  says  I,  trying  to  pa- 
cify him,  '  it's  all  your  own  fault  for  being  so  close ;  for  if  so  be 
as  1  could  have  had  an  inkling  who  this  man  was,  why,  in 
course,  I'd  have  seen  him  at  the  d — 1  afore  he  should  have  had 
my  wote.  Howsever,  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  business,  it's 
some  comfort  to  think  that  we'll  have  a  pretty  penny  of  money 
coming  in,  near  upon  £90,  when  Slimeycraft  scores  up.'  " 

"  '  Father  ! '  cries  Joe,  swearing  a  terrible  oath  (he  poor 
fellow  as  never  swears),  and  clenching  his  fist,  which  he  brought 
down  on  the  table  with  the  strength  of  a  sledge-hammer,  till 
the  few  things  in  the  place  rattled  again — '  depend  upon  it.  if 
you  take  one  farthin  of  that  man's  money,  you  had  better  hang 
yourself  first ;  for  there  will  be  nearly  as  great  a  curse  upon  it 
as  on  Judas's  thirty  pieces  of  silver.' 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  want  to  worry  or  herritate  poor  Joe,  so 
said  nothink,  and  let  him  think  I  had  given  up  the  idear  of  taking 
this  money ;  but  the  next  morning  when  he  had  gone  down  to  The 
'  Tabard  '  (for  he  had  slep'  on  the  flure  here  that  night),  and  I  saw 
starvation  staring  us  in  the  fiioe,  and  a  long  illness  before  me,  T 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  289 

wrote  a  line  to  Bedford  Row,  telling  him  the  accident  I  had  had, 
and  saying,  but  for  it  I  would,  as  I  told  him,  have  given  my  wote 
for  nothink ;  but  as  it  was,  being  now  disabled  and  thrown  out  of 
work,  I  should  be  very  glad  of  a  httle  money,  seeing  the  charges  I 
had  incurred  in  treating  Mr.  Ferrars'  woters.  This  letter  I  give 
to  my  missus,  and  told  her  to  wait  for  an  answer.  She  was 
away  a  matter  of  nearly  three  hours,  during  which  time  I  had 
neither  fire  nor  breakfast,  not  being  able  to  move  off  the  bed. 
When  she  came  back,  she  said  the  gentleman — a  nice  gentle- 
man !  truly — had  kep'  her  waiting  a  long  time,  and  had  then 
sent  out  word  by  his  clerk,  that  it  was  all  right,  and  he'd  call 
upon  me  in  the  arternoon.  In  course  I  thought  he  was  coming 
with  the  money,  and  so  told  my  wife  to  tidy  up  the  place  as  well 
as  she  could.  Well,  sir,  about  three  o'clock,  sure  enough  he 
came ;  but  instead  of  bringing  the  money,  he  said,  shewing  me 
my  own  letter, — 

"  '  What's  all  this,  my  good  man  ?  Don't  you  know  that 
bribery  at  elections  is  punishable  by  law  ? ' 

"  'But  sir,  you  promised — nay,  sir,  you  insisted  upon  giving 
me  £10  for  my  own  wote,  and  £10  for  every  other  wote  that  I 
could  get  for  Ferrars.' 

"  At  this  the  wretch  grinned  in  my  face  in  the  most  aggra- 
wating  manner,  and  said — 

"  '  Well,  now  really,  my  good  fellow,  to  look  at  you  I  should 
say  you  were  black,  but  this  must  be  an  optical  illusion  ;  for 
decidedly  you  must  be  green,  and  very  green,  not  to  know 
what  the  commercial  value  of  electioneering  promises  are  ! ' 

"  '  Then,'  said  I,  quite  roused  by  his  villany,  '  if  there  is  any 
stir  made  about  the  bribery  that  went  on  at  the  Frothiptoi^ 
election,  I  am  ready  to  take  my  oath  of  the  manner  in  which 
you  bribed  me,  and  the  fool  I  was  to  let  myself  be  bribed  1 ' 

"  '  Ha  !  ha  ! '  laughed  this  hyena  of  a  Lieyer^ '  Take  as  many 
oaths  as  you  please,  if  it  is  any  amusement  to  you  to  do  so,  but  re- 
collect this,  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  oath  and  my  oath  (with 
witnesses  that  we  have  ajvvays  at  our  command)  would  be  takep  ir| 
13 


290  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

any  Court  of  Justice  in  Eng-land,  against  yours  and  we'd  have  you 
transported  for  perjury.  Besides,  just  look  here,  my  good  fellow,' 
said  the  wretch,  taking  a  packet  of  letters  out  of  his  pocket,  that 
seemed  much  worn  and  with  different  post-marks  on  them,  '  not 
one  of  these  documents  are  in  reality  penned  by  the  persons  from 
whom  they  ostensibly  come ;  and  yet,  there  is  not  one  of  the  parties 
purporting  to  have  written  them — though  morally  certain  that 
they  had  not  done  so ;  when  made  acquainted  with  their  contents, 
that  would  not  nevertheless  be  compelled  to  swear  that  such  was 
their  signature  and  hand-writing.  Now,  my  good  fellow,  though 
not  generally  known,  because  not  generally  resorted  to,  as  weak 
minds  have  a  prejudice  against  it,  yet  this  fac-simileing  of 
other  persons'  writing  is  as  thriving  a  trade  in  our  great  town 
as  any  other  ;  therefore  don't  flatter  yourself  that  your  penman- 
ship is  so  exquisite  as  to  be  inimitable,  and  the  moment  you 
swear  bribery  against  me  and  my  honorable  client,  I  shall  put 
in  a  letter  from  you  accusing  yourself  of  perjury,  and  saying 
that  you  had  been  bribed  by  the  opposite  party  to  do  so  ;  but 
that  your  conscience  (capital !  public  word  that)  would  not  allow 
you  to  go  through  with  it ;  and  1  shall  even  contrive  to  have 
this  document  handed  up  in  open  court,  as  if  coming  directly 
from  yourself.  As  for  risking  your  future  vote  and  interest — as 
it  is  not  very  likely  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  will  ever  again 
stand  for  a  little  trumpery  place  like  Frothinton — that  does  not 
give  us  much  anxiety,  and  although  he  and  I,  have  both  far  too 
large  a  stake  in  the  great  game  of  life  to,  from  choice,  waste 
our  time  in  catching  minnows,  or  breaking  butterflies  on  the 
wheel — yet,  if  you  are  not  quiet,  or  if  you  make  any  more 
ridiculous  demands  upon  us,  we  shall  be  compelled,  in  order  to 
rid  ourselves  of  the  nuisance,  to  put  a  damper  on  your  trade. 
So  take  my  advice,  and  stick  to  your  awl,  as  it  is  all  you  have 
to  look  to,  and  as  a  shoemaker  you  will  find  that  there  is  noth- 
ing like  leather ! ' 

"  And  so  saying,  with  another  laugh,  the  monster  left  the 
room.     It  was  well  for  him  that  I  could  not  move,  or  else  I 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  291 

think  he'd  have  had  to  go  home  with  a  few  less  of  his  crafty 
brains  in  his  head." 

"  A  precious  pair  of  villains,  indeed,  this  Shmeycraft  and 
his  client !  "  groaned  Lancaster,  for  a  moment  covering  his  face, 
as  he  remembered  that  the  latter  was  always  hovering  like  a 
vulture  round  Edith.  "  But,"  added  he,  "  beyond  having  been 
swindled  out  of  your  vote  and  your  money,  and  laughed  at  for 
your  folly  by  this  unprincipled  pair, — I  quite  agree  with  the 
gentleman  who  went  away  when  I  came  in,  that  you  have 
nothing  further  to  fear  from  them,  not  from  any  compassion 
towards  you,  but  out  of  consideration  for  themselves.  You 
have  certainly  paid  dearly  for  the  lesson ;  but  not  too  dearly,  if 
it  has  taught  you  that  interfering  in  what  we  don't  understand 
is  at  once  the  surest  and  most  severe  manner  of  tempting 
Providence  ;  and  depend  upon  it,  honest  artizans  in  your  sphere 
are  as  little  competent  to  manage  the  tools  Politicians  employ, 
to  make  stepping  stones  of  them,  as  those  fine  gentlemen  would 
be  to  handle,  with  any  degree  of  success,  the  implements  of 
your  craft.  But  how  about  this  poor  child ; — in  what  way  do 
you  think  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  can  best  serve  him  ?  "  ' 

"  Well,  sir,  for  the  present,  I  should  say  as  he  was  almost 
imrioided  for ;  only  to  be  sure  servitude  is  not  an  inheritance. 
But  one  Mrs.  Bousefield,  he  tells  me — a  very  tidy  sort  of  ooman, 
that  I  have  worked  for  these  many  years — it  seems  met  Jack 
in  the  street  to-day,  and  took  compassion  on  him,  by  promising 
to  get  him  a  sittmation  as  herrand-boy,  and  such  like,  with  the 
lady  where  she  now  lives.  So  perhaps,  sir,  it  would  be  better 
not  to  trouble  her  grace  jist  at  present,  if  so  be  at  any  futer 
time  she  would  have  the  goodness  to  hinterest  herself  for  poor 
Jack." 

"  May  be  that  would  be  the  best  plan,"  said  Mr.  Lancaster ; 
"  and  then  she  would  have  more  time  to  consider  what  would 
be  the  best  method  of  insuring  his  future  welfare.  But  it  seems 
to  me,  that  your  own  necessities  are  the  most  pressing,  so  let 
us  see  what  can  be  done  for  them.     There  is   a  certain  honest 


292  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

pride  whicli  every  man,  who  deserves  the  name  of  one,  pos- 
sesses, and  which  would  revolt  at  the  humiliation  of  alms,  and 
the  enervating  fetters  of  dependance ;  but  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  in  some  positions  a  yearning  for  the  assistance  and 
support  of  our  fellows,  which  every  one  who  is  a  Christian 
feels  God  has  placed  him  in  this  world  for,  whether  it  be  to 
give  or  to  receive ;  and  inasmuch  as  that  we  are  told  on  high 
authority,  that  *  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,^  the 
giver,  contrary  to  the  current  opinion  in  the  world,  is  in  reality 
the  debtor.  Now,  do  you  think  that  if  I  were  to  hire  and  pay  the 
rent  of  a  small  shop  for  you,  and  the  wages  of  three  workmen, 
giving  you  a  certain  sum  to  purchase  a  stock-in-trade,  and  to 
start  with,  that  you  could  return  to,  and  stick  steadily  to  your 
business,  and  at  the  end  of  three  years  refund  me  an  instal- 
ment of  the  original  outlay,  and  so  on,  annually  afterwards,  till 
you  were  once  more  free  and  independent,  and  the  whole  busi- 
ness became  hand  fide  as  well  as  ostensibly  yours  ?  At  the 
same  time — as  often  with  the  best  intentions  and  the  most  un- 
remitting industry,  human  undertakings  are  liable  to  fail — if, 
upon  an  examination  of  your  books,  and  an  investigation  of 
your  conduct,  I  found  yours  had  done  so,  I  should  make  no 
demands  upon  you,  but  consider  that  we  had  both  been  unfor- 
tunate in  our  speculation  and  must  go  on  a  little  longer,  hoping 
for  better  times." 

"  Sir,  sir !  I  don't  understand,"  said  Roberts,  with  a  half 
ecstatic,  half  bewildered  look,  as  he  took  off  his  spectacles  and 
clasped  his  hands.  Surely  it  is  not  possible  that  you  can  really 
mean  to " 

But  Lancaster  interrupted  him,  by  repeating  the  substance 
of  what  he  had  just  said. 

"  Margaret !  a  cup  of  water,"  gasped  the  poor  mechanic, 
taking  off  his  cravat,  and  nearly  falling  back  on  the  pillow. 
"  Oh  !  sir,"  added  he,  "  don't  think  me  ungrateful ;  it  is  not-^ 
indeed  it  is  not  that — but  your  kindness  quite  overpowers  me^ 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  293 

and  my  gratitude  chokes  me ;  my  heart  is  too  full  of  it,  and  yet 
it  cannot  get  further  than  my  throat." 

"  Come,  come,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Lancaster,  rising  with 
a  smile,  "  I  don't  want  to  have  the  coroner  here,  so  you  must 
rally,  and  let  me  find  you  all  right  when  I  return  in  a  day  or 
two — as  I  shall  do,  to  know  where  you  have  decided  upon  our 
taking  the  shop.  And  you,  too,  Mrs.  Roberts,  you  must  stir 
yourself,  for  you'll  have  to  see  ahout  the  furniture  and  other 
domestic  concerns." 

Apparently  forgetting  the  cup  of  cold  water  she  was  hold- 
ing to  her  husband,  the  poor  creature  let  it  drop  from  her  hand, 
and  splash  all  about,  as  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  exclaiming, 
"May  the  Lord  in  heaven  bless  you,  sir  !  " 

"  You  cannot  kneel  to  Him  too  often  ;  but  never  kneel  to 
any  human  being,"  said  Lancaster,  raising  her  kindly  ;  and  then 
to  avoid  their  further  thanks,  he  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

Verily  !  Omnipotence  alone  understands  the  science  of  the 
heart's  gravitation  ;  for  the  more  it  takes  upon  itself  the  burdens 
of  others,  the  lighter  it  becomes  :  and  Harold  Lancaster's  had 
not  felt  so  buoyant  for  many  a  long  day,  as  it  did  when  he 
turned  out  of  that  dark,  dirty  street,  from  which  he  had  just 
emancipated  two  weary  spirits,  and  drove  back  to  Carlton 
Gardens,  radiant  with  the  anticipation  of  meeting  Edith  en 
jyetit  comite,  at  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  at  dinner,  that 
day. 


C|f  ®orI^,  t\t  ikB\,  Hill)  t\}t  §M. 

SECTION  XII. 

*'  Make  to  yourselves  friends  of  the  Mammon  of  unrighteousness.'" — Luke,  xvi.  9. 

"  For  the  children  of  this  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children 
of  lighV— Ibid.  v.  8. 

"  Often  what  passes  for  extreme  cleverness  in  the  world  is  nothing  more  than 
intense  want  of  principle." 

"Le  ciel  en  vous  formant,  voulut  se  signaler  j'y  cousens :  mais  enfln,  vous  netes 
que  des  hommes."— Gilbert. 

It  was  late  on  Saturday  nigbt,  or  rather  early  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, when  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  brougham  stopped  at  the 
Clarendon.  He  had  been  at  the  Opera,  but  on  account  of  his 
new  rdle  of  rejected,  and  therefore,  as  a  matter  of  course,  de- 
jected lover,  he  had  taken  care  not  to  appear  in  the  foi/er,  but 
had  ensconced  himself  at  the  back  of  the  Duchess  of  Diplomat's 
box,  occupied,  on  that  night,  by  Mrs.  Piers  Moncton  ;  whom, 
after  he  had  again  felicitated  on  her  good  fortune,  in  securing 
for  a  governess  such  a  rock  of  sense!  mountain  of  learning! 
and  model  of  morality!  as  Fraulein  Gothekant,  he  had  to  listen 
to  that  lady's  individual  hopes  and  fears. 

"  Oh  !  ray  dear  Mithter  Ponthonby  Ferrarth,"  said  she,  "  we 
have  had  good  news  at  latht :  Pierth  had  a  letter  from  hith  fa- 
ther to-day,  thaying  that  hith  elder  brother,  Grantley,  ith 
tho  ill  at  Bruthells  that  he  hath  been  given  over  ;  and  ath 
to  Thir  Pierths,  in  the  courthe  of  nature  it  ith  impothible  that 
he  can  latht  lono:." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  295 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  flatter  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Moncton,  old 
people  do  stick  to  life  with  such  inveterate  obstinacy  ;  look  at 
my  aunt  for  instance  ;  I'm  positively  ruined  with  post-obits. 
However,  you  understand,  these  are  things  one  don't  talk  about 
to  every  one  ;  but  I  know  I  may  rely  upon  your  discretion,  and 
I  hope  you  do  not  doubt  mine  ;  for  if  any  one  says  to  me  how 
pretty  Mrs.  Moncton  looks  to-night,  but  rather  pale,  I  shall  say 
— Ah  !  poor  Moncton  has  had  very  bad  accounts  of  his  brother, 
and  his  chcre  petite  femme  is  a  perfect  sensitive  plant — ha,  ha, 
ha  ! "  "  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! "  re-echoed  the  lady,  and  the  amiable 
pair  laughed  in  concert,  for  full  two  minutes  ;  the  gentleman 
adding,  when  their  mirth  had  subsided, — 

"  The  fact  is,  as  I  need  not  tell  you,  the  w^orld  is  a  big  baby 
not  yet  weaned  from  its  prejudices,  and  never  will  be  ;  and  the 
only  way  one  can  get  it  to  be  quiet,  and  not  pull  one  to  pieces 
for  its  amusement,  is  to  talk  all  sorts  of  nonsense  to  it ;  by  so 
doing,  one  may  manage  to  fare  better  than  Gulliver  did  with 
the  Brobdignag  baby,  and  keep  oneself  out  of  its  mouth." 

"  Very  true,  but  you  have  one  comfort,"  said  his  companion 
— returning,  like  all  sensible  people,  to  the  pounds,  shillings, 
and  pence  part  of  their  conversation — "  and  a  great  comfort  it 
ith,  my  dear  Mithter  Ferrarth,  that  lady  Mammonton  doeth  give 
out  pubHcly,  that  you  are  to  be  her  heir,  and  don't  go  on  ang- 
ling with  your  hopeth  and  fearth,  like  thome  of  oneth  rich 
relationth." 

"  Ah  !  but  still,  all  this  amounts  to  a  promissory  note,  and 
I  nmch  prefer  hank  notes  !  then  too,  the  piety  of  old  women 
generally  consists  in  having  a  saving  grace — and  nothing  be- 
yond." 

"  Well,"  laughed  Mrs.  Moncton,  "  and  all  the  better  for 
those  who  come  after  them,  without  ever  having  arrived  at  that^ 
or  pei'haps  at  any  othei-  state  of  grace,  as  I  suppose  Archdeacon 
Panmuir  would  tell  you — ex  Cathedra.  Dear  me,  but  that 
Miss  Panmuir  is  very  handsome,"  added  she,  arranging  the 
focus  of  her  opera  glass,  so  as  the  better  to  examine  Edith,  who, 


296         •  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

after  dining  with,  had  just  come  into  the  Duchess  of  Liddes- 
dale's  box  opposite,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Lancaster  and  Samuel 
Panmuir  ; — "  don't  you  think  so  ?  "  concluded  Mrs.  Moncton, 
appealing  to  her  companion. 

But  exclusive  of  its  being  one  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars' 
theories,  that  a  man  should  never  praise  one  woman  to  another, 
— for  his  way  of  flattering  the  sex  was  always  to  libel  them — 
be  did  not,  under  existing  circumstances,  feel  the  slightest  in- 
clination to  join  in  Edith's  praises,  so  he  merely  replied  with  a 
shrug — drawling  out  every  word  leisurely — 

"  Well, — she's — not — exactly — my — style —  of — woman." 

Here,  to  his  great  relief,  the  box  door  opened,  and  the  Conde 
de  Sotomayor,  like  a  heavy  three-decker  Dutch  skipper,  rolled 
in,  followed  by  Monsieur  Charles  de  la  Tour  de  Nesle,  floating 
buoyantly  like  a  small  life-boat  in  his  wake. 

It  being  an  understood  thing  about  town,  that  Mrs.  Piei^s 
Moncton  and  the  Conde  could  always  suflSce  to  each  other ;  and, 
indeed,  as  far  as  Sotomayor  was  concerned,  he  was  more  than  a 
portion  pour  une,  let  that  one  have  been  ever  so  exijeante! 
while  with  regard  to  the  lady — why 

"  Man  wants  but  little  here  below," 
<fec.,  (fee.,  tkc. — 

which  shows  what  a  poor,  dear,  temperate,  easily  satisfied  ani- 
mal he  is. 

As  soon  as  the  Hidalgo  had  with  some  difficulty  shampood 
himself  into  afauteuil,  placing  his  right  arm  across  the  back  of 
Mrs.  Moncton's  chair,  so  as  not  to  trust  entirely  to  one  of  such 
frail  tenure  for  support,  the  clever  man  turned  to  Monsieur 
Charles  de  la  Tour  de  Nesle  and  said,  as  he  held  out  one  finger  to 
him,  at  the  same  time  never  for  a  moment  losing  sight  of  the 
Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  box — 

"  What  news,  mon  cher  1 " 

"  Well,  there  really  is  news — Lord  Nonmuscle  has  resigned, 
and  Lord  Redby  was  sent  for  to  Windsor  at  nine  this  evening." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  297 

"  The  D 1  ! "  muttered  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  adding 

the  next  moment — "  Have  you  heard  who  are  to  be  the  mem- 
bers of  the  new  cabinet  ? " 

"  Nobody  has  heard^  but  every  one  knows.  Benaraby,  for 
instance,  will  at  last  hang  up  his  gabardine  in  Downing  Street. 
Coakington,  they  say,  would  have  been  Attorney-General,  only 
Lord  Redby  is  rather  at  a  nonplus  about  those  £15,000  dama- 
ges that  are  hanging  over  him  for  that  Bouverie  affair ;  as  he 
feels  it  would  not  be  quite  the  best  sort  of  affiche  for  a  high 
legal  functionary's  debiiV 

"DeviHsh  unlucky  !"  thought  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  pull- 
ing his  under  lip,  "  that  I  did  not  rat  last  year  when  Benaraby 
wanted  me  to  do  so  ;  but  then  I  thought  the  Whigs  were  safe 
for  at  least  five  or  six  years  longer.  However,  I  now  see  why 
he  asked  me  to  sup  with  him  to-night,  and  there's  no  use  in 
bothering  myself  with  regrets  till  I  know  what  I  have  lost,  or 
what  I  may  gainT  And  he  consoled  himself  with  that  raiifieJ. 
axiom  of  modern  politicians, 

"  BETTER    LATE    THAN    NEVER," 

and  then  devoted  his  undivided  attention  to  watching  and 
scowling  at  Edith  and  Mr.  Lancaster,  in  the  opposite  box,  till 
it  was  lucky  for  them  that  the  evil  eye  is  only  a  chimera  !  The 
clock  of  St.  James's  Church  had  just  chimed  eleven,  when 
Archdeacon  Panmuir,  with  sympathetic  punctuality,  pulled  out 
his  watch,  for  he  never  stayed  at  any  public  place  later  than 
that  hour  of  a  Saturday  night ;  and  as  he  was  only  too  happy 
to  leave  Edith  to  the  chaperonnage  of  the  Duchess  of  Liddes- 
dale,  notwithstanding  the  drawback  of  Mr.  Lancaster,  and  more- 
over had  to  preach  at  the  Abbey  in  the  morning,  he  now  took 
his  departure.  Not  that  the  preparation  of  his  sermons  ever 
gave  liim  much  trouble,  as,  though  not  exactly  in  words,  yet  in 
spirit,  they  were  for  the  most  part  modelled  upon  those  cordon 
sanitaire  exordiumij  of  Pere  Calliot,  a  Jesuit  who  used  to 
preach  at  St.  Sulpice,  in  the  time  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth 

where  all  the  court  and  haute  noblesse  sat  in  the  body  of  the 
13* 


298  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

church  near  the  pulpit,  while  the  bourgeoisie  and  common  peo- 
ple sat  out  in  the  distant  aisles  ;  which  caused  him  invariably 
to  beofin  his  sermons  in  this  fashion — with  his  hands  crossed 
and  pressed  upon  his  breast,  looking  almost  tenderly  at  the  aris- 
tocratic mob  beneath  the  pulpit,  as  he  leant  forward  over  it — 
"  Mes  tres  chersfreres,^^*  and  then  suddenly  regaining  his  per- 
pendicularity, and  haughtily  flinging  back  his  head  as  he  raised 
his  voice,  and  pointed  with  his  outstretched  forefinger  at  the 
plebeian  crowd  in  the  distance,  while  he  added,  in  a  shrill,  dicta- 
torial voice,  "  et  vous  autres,  canaille  de  Chretiens  ! 

So,  Samuel  Panmuir  having  wished  the  Duchess  of  Liddes- 
dale  and  Mr.  Lancaster  good-night,  left  that  scene  of  worldly 
dissipation,  to  prepare  to  meet  ses  tres  ckersfreres,  et  les  atitres 
canailles  de  Chretiens,  that  were  to  congregate  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  at  eleven  the  next  morning.  "While  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  resumed  his  scrutiny  of  Edith,  casting  at  the  same  time 
a  retrospective  glance  at  his  own  career,  and  lamenting  how  his 
youth  and  inexperience  had  been  sacrificed  on  divere  occasions 
to  the  wiles  of  women  ! — for  it  was  one  of  the  idiosyncracies  of 
his  luckily  somewhat  unique  moral  perceptions,  to  invariably 
transpose  facts,  those  great  first  causes  of  results !  and  having 
begun  his  career  of  unchecked  profligacy  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, with  a  stock  of  astute  and  cold  systematic  calculations,  that 
would  have  been  revolting  in  a  sexagenarian  debauchee,  and 
which  was  perfectly  appalling  in  one  who  had  scarcely  fran- 
chised  the  white  barrier  which  divides  childhood  from  youth, 
he  had  strangely  enough  assumed  that  all  the  cunningly  baited 
snares  which  he  had  laid  but  too  successfully  for  others,  had  been 
spread  for  him :  an  assumption  founded  upon  the  one  circum- 
stance of  his  being  in  reality  young  in  years.  At  least  he  had 
not  originally  entertained  this  creed,  being  far  too  proud  of  his 
precocious  savoir  faire,  et  defaire  !  not  to  award  to  it  the  full 


*  "  My  very  dear  brethren,  and  you,  scum  of  the  earth !  Christiaxis 
over  there ! " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  29-0 

credit  it  deserved ;  but  his  wise  aunt,  as  an  extenuation  of  all 
his  vices,  having  set  forth  the  plea  of  his  youth,  the  world  had 
echoed  it ;  and  he  himself,  when  any  of  his  plots  recoiled  upon 
him,  and  entangled  him  in  their  mazes  beyond  the  time  he  had 
contemplated  their  duration,  began  to  solace  his  chafed  spirit 
and  impeded  villany  with  the  charming  little  fantasma  of  his 
unguarded  youth  !  having  fallen  a  prey  to  the  fausses  Agnes 
with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact !  For,  verily,  were  Dante 
living  now,  and  creating  his  "  Inferno,"  he  must  have  deprived 
his  Hypocrite  of  his  "  leaden  cloak,''^  so  constantly  was  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars  gracefully  draped  in  it,  till,  in  fact,  it  had  become 
part  and  parcel  of  himself.  But,  as  he  had  steadily  resisted  all 
attempts  on  the  part  of  his  aunt  to  place  him  at  a  public  school, 
the  wonder  is  how  he  had  acquired  at  so  early  an  age  so  scien- 
tific, systematic,  and  practical  a  knowledge  of  all  that  was  most 
vicious  in  vice,  and  most  villanous  in  want  of  principle.  It  is 
true,  that  he  had  been  at  once  the  pride  and  the  shame  of  his 
innumerable  private  tutors,  whose  name  was  legion .;  for  those 
gentlemen  having  consciences  had  soon  resigned  their  post,  say- 
ing, that  nothing  could  possibly  do  them  more  credit  than  young 
Ferrars's  intellectual  advancement,  or  more  discredit  than  the 
worse  than  undeveloped,  the  totally  perverted  state  of  his  moral 
organization  ;  so  that  each,  in  quitting  him,  saw  the  same  vi- 
sion, and  uttered  the  same  prophecy  for  his  future  career.  "  In- 
tellectually speaking,"  said  they,  "  he  will  be  a  shining  light ; 
but  morally  speaking,  he  will  be  a  scourge,  not  to  say  a  fatal 
curse  to  all  with  whom  he  may  have  any  intimate  association 
or  relationship  ;  for  he  has  neither  feelings  nor  principles — he 
has  only  passions  and  vices."  Through  the  many  weeks  and 
months  snatched  of  idleness,  during  these  incessant  changes  of 
preceptors,  and  the  saturnalias  that  followed  while  left  to  his 
own  devices,  this  father  of  the  clever  man — the  clever  boy — 
fought  off  going  to  Cambridge  till  he  was  two-and-twenty  ;  so 
that  he  arrived  there  less  of  a  tyro  than  an  homme  blase  ;  and 
for  all  this  encouragement  to  his  evil  courses — like  the  boy  in 


300  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

the  spelling-book,  who  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows,  bit  off  his 
foolishly-indulgent  mother's  ear,  reproaching  her  as  the  cause 
of  his  being  there — Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  heartily  despised  his 
aunt ;  but,  luckily  for  her,  he  as  heartily  respected  and  looked 
up  to  her  money ;  and  therefore  devotion  to  her  purse  made 
him  simulate  ditto  to  her  person.  In  short,  he  was  quite  a  man 
of  the  present  day,  suited  to  the  times,  what  the  utilitarians  call 
"  a  practical  man,"  for  he  worshipped  money,  and  money  only, 
in  all  its  sources,  causes,  and  efiects — the  latter  more  particu- 
larly ;  taking  especial  care  to  cotton  to  our  national  claptraps, 
so  that  he  studied  the  w^ealth  of  show  quite  as  much  as  the 
show  of  wealth,  which  is  our  Sheffield  pattern  of  the  Golden 
Calf.  And  now  as  he  sat  darkly  watching  Edith,  he  kept  cast- 
ing up  in  his  own  mind  a  little  sum  of  addition  in  ifs  and  buts^ 
the  total  of  which  amounted  to  this  : — That  if  he  had  not  been 
so  confoundedly  hampered  by  A's,  B's,  and  C's,  he  might  have 
devoted  himself  exclusively  to  ensnaring  Edith.  True,  he  must 
have  married  her ;  there  was  nothing  else  for  it,  with  a  girl  in 
her  sphere  of  life ;  and  true,  also,  she  had  no  money  ;  but  then 
he  considered  the  regality  of  her  beauty,  while  youth  lasted, 
quite  a  rank  in  life  in  itself,  and  almost  equivalent  in  society,  for 
a  time,  to  wealth  itself ;  and  long  before  either  she  or  it  were  old, 
he  knew  himself  well  enough  to  be  convinced  that  he  should  be 
heartily  tired  of  her,  and  glad  enough  to  cast  her  off.  And 
thanks  to  Slimeycraft,  he  was  quite  as  well  up  in  the  infernal 
subtleties  and  crookednesses  of  the  English  laws  about  wives, 
as  he  was  in  all  the  2^uTe  moralities !  of  classic  lore ;  and  by  set- 
tling a  beggarly  nominal  sum  on  her  to  bar  dower,  at  their 
marriage,  he  could,  he  knew,  prevent  her  having  any  claim 
upon  his  future  wealth.  And  then,  the  fact  of  her  having  no 
fortune,  or  no  relations,  but  such  a  pompous  ass  as  Samuel  Pan- 
muir,  would  be  devilish  lucky  !  as  that  would  put  her  complete- 
ly in  his  power  ;  whereas,  where  there  was  money,  the  law  fool- 
ishly allowed  a  woman  certain  claims ;  but  he  hoped  a  great 
mind  like  Lord  Brougham's,  who  had  done  all  he  possibly  could 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  301 

to  degrade  women  to  the  lowest  ebb,  and  make  the  ah-eady  too 
barbarously  unjust  laws  against  them  even  more  stringent  and 
oppressive — would  soon  sweep  away, — which  was  what  such  a 
great  Brougham  ought  to  do  I — every  shadow  of  protection,  or 
appeal  for  them  !  Ah  !  a  few  more  such  thorough-going  fel- 
lows as  Brougham  are  what  are  wanted  in  the  legislature  :  hav- 
ing run  the  gauntlet  of  what  the  world  calls  profligacy  so  long, 
he  knows  how  women  ought  to  be  dealt  with.  Then,  again, 
Edith  having  no  brothers  is  a  great  desideratum,  for  where  there 
are  brothers  there  are  apt  to  be  horsewhips,  and  the  power  of 
making  things  public,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  She  ^5  devil- 
ish handsome  to  be  sure  !  Don't  flatter  yourself,  Miss  Panmuir, 
I  have  not  done  with  you  yet.  At  all  events,  that  fellow  shall 
never  supersede  me  I  I  promise  you,"  said  he,  grinding  his 
teeth  fearfully  at  Mr.  Lancaster,  as  he  concluded  this  amiable 
mental  soliloquy ;  a  movement  which  did  not  escape  Monsieur 
Charles  de  la  Tour  de  jSTesle,  who  said — 

"  Qu'  avez  vous,  mon  cher  ?  " 

"  Je  n'ai  rien  encore ! "  laughed  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars ; 
"  for  you  know,  my  dear  fellow,  the  new  ministry  is  not  yet 
formed." 

"  Ah  !  fy  suis^''  retorted  the  other ;  '•  which  means,  that 
when  it  is,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  wdll  be  transformed  n'est-ce- 
pas?" 

"  No,  no,  not  exactly,"  rejoined  that  gentleman,  borrowing- 
one  of  Mr.  Benaraby's  oracular  shrugs,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  elongated  his  feet,  and  elevated  his  eyebrows ;  "  for  my 
plan  about  joining  new  administrations  is  modelled  upon  that 
of  young  ladies  about  accepting  ofters  of  marriage — I  always 
wait  till  I  am  asked." 

Now  this  was  one  of  those  two-coloured  answers,  like  a  shot- 
silk,  which  presented  a  different  surface,  according  to  the  light 
it  was  viewed  in  :  if  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  joined  the  new  min- 
istry, it  would  appear  in  the  light  of  a  modest  disclaimer ;  and 
if  he  did  not — why  then  the  words  would  have  merely  meant 


302  BEHIND    THE    SCENES 

(a  rare  occurrence  in  his  mouth  !)  the  exact  sense  they  were  sup- 
posed to  convey.  After  uttering  this  reply,  not  liking  to  con- 
tinue the  subject,  he  assumed  a  vacant,  absent  sort  of  look,  as 
for  a  moment,  removing  his  eyes  from  Edith,  he  lowered  his 
opera-glass,  and  turned  them  upon  Mrs.  Moncton. 

A  quoi  pensez  vous,  mon  cher  ? ''"'  asked  the  Attache. 

"  I  was  merely  studying  anatomy  en  amateur,"  replied  the 
other,  glancing  in  an  explanatory  manner  at  the  little  w^oman's 
shoulders,  as  he  turned  with  a  broad  smile  to  his  interrogator. 

"  Ah !  "  laughed  the  latter,  but  still  in  the  same  under  tone, 
"cela  me  rappel  le  toujours  un  delicieux  Marivaudage  de 
Theophile  Gautier,  dans  son  Roman  de  "  Jean  et  Jeannette ;  " 
en  parlant  d'un  des  personnages,  il  dit.  Sa  poitnne  intrepide- 
ment  decolletee,  etalait  les  plus  delicieux  neants,  et  I'on  pent 
dire  que  jamais  le  rien  ne  fut  plus  joli." 

"  Ce  pendant,  mon  cher,  I'on  pent  aussi  dire,  qu'il  y'a  des 
choses  plus  jolies  que  le  rien  !  "  ha !  ha'd  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars. 

"  Certes  !  "  re-laughed  the  Attache. 

"  You  are  very  meriy  there.  "What  are  you  laughing  at  ? " 
asked  Mi-s.  Moncton,  sheltering  her  ringlets  with  one  hand  from 
a  tremontana  sigh  that  had  just  escaped  from  her  fat  Inamora- 
to, as  she  turned  to  make  this  enquiry. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars — who  perceived  a  move 
in  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  box,  and  therefore  also  rose  to 
depart,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  lady — "  De  la  Tour  de 
Nesle  will  tell  you,  for  he  is  the  owner  of  the  jest." 

"  No,  no,"  laughed  the  latter ;  "  I  disown  it ;  not  wishing,  my 
dear  Ferrars,  to  have  any  hone  of  contention  between  us,  comme 
vous  dites  vous  autres  Anglais T 

And  with  this,  Mr,  Ponsonby  Ferrars  shut-to  the  box  door, 
and  hurried  on,  so  as  to  get  through  the  crush-room,  before 
Edith  could  arrive  there ;  as  his  object  was  to  gain  the  street 
and  lean  against  a  lamp-post,  in  order  to  let  the  light  glare  full 
upon  his  despairing  face  and  figure  as  she  got  into  the  car- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  303 

riage.  He  had  not  long  taken  his  station — dishevelled  his  hair, 
slouched  his  hat,  and  purposely  disordered  his  jahot — ere 
the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  high-stepping  bays  dashed  into  the 
line,  the  sparks  coruscating  round  their  thorough-bred  ankles, 
as  the  coachman  pulled  them  up,  against  the  curbstone. 

Just  as  a  link-boy  was  vociferating — 

"The  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's  carriage  stops  the  way ; "  and 
the  functionary  within  answered — 

"  The  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  coming  out ! "  Joe,  the  ostler 
of  "  The  Tabard,"  who  had  been  upon  some  business  to  Panton 
Street,  came  limping  down  the  Haymarket,  accompanied  by 
Union  Jack,  who  was  expressing  his  great  wish  that  he  had  but 
money  enough  to  buy  a  pair  of  high  lows  before  he  went  to  his 
new  place. 

"Well,"  said  Joe,  "s'pose  as  you  axes  some  of  the  quality 
here  ;  there^  try  that  fine  gent  out  yander,  a  leaning  agin 
that  'ere  lamp-post ; "  and  he  pointed  moodily  to  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars.  The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  before  Jack 
had  broken  from  him,  and  with  his  most  piteous  whine,  rushed 
up  to  that  gentleman,  saying — 

"  Please,  sir,  do  bestow  a  trifle  on  a  poor  boy,  as  aint  got 
neither  father  nor  mother,  to  help  get  him  a  pair  of  shoes  ;  do, 
kind  sir,  if  you  please — you  won't  be  never  the  poorer  for  it." 

At  this  moment  Edith  was  just  coming  out,  leaning  on  Mr. 
Lancaster,  and  the  policeman  was  about  to  push  back  Union 
Jack  with  his  stave  ;  but  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  stretching  out 
his  hand  so  that  Edith  must  see  it,  and  raising  his  voice  so  that 
she  could  not  fail  to  recognise  it,  said — 

"  No,  no,  pray  don't  hurt  the  boy  ;  here  my  poor  fellow, 
here's  a  sovereign  for  you." 

Edith  had  seen  and  heard  the  whole  transaction  as  it  had 
been  intended  she  should  do ;  and  upon  the  strength  of  it,  had 
bowed  to  him  much  more  kindly  than  she  otherwise  would  have 
done.  Another  personage  had  also  seen,  and  heard,  this  little 
scena,  which  was  Slimeycraft,  as  he  issued  from  the  pit-door  ; 


304  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

for  he  was  a  great  frequenter  of  the  opera,  not  exactly  from  love 
of  music;  but,  because  like  all  low,  vulgar-minded  persons,  he 
was  exceedingly  fond  of  knowing  great  people  by  sight,  in  order 
that  he  might  stretch  his  own  consequence  an  inch  or  two,  by 
identifying  them  in  steam-boats,  at  watering  places,  and  on 
race-courses.  So,  scarcely  had  the  door  closed  on  Edith,  and 
the  carriage  driven  off,  ere,  coming  up  to  his  client  and  nudging 
his  elbow  familiarly,  he  said  with  his  short,  vulgar  laugh — 

"  Giving  a  sovereign  to  a  beggar !  well,  come ! — that  is  a 
good  WW.'" 

"  JV^o,  my  dear  Slimey craft,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
shaking  his  head  with  a  joyous  chuckle,  "  a  bad  one  !  or  I  should 
not  have  given  it — ha  !  ha !  ha  !  now  do  you  understand  ? " 
and  again  the  clever  man  laughed  ;  for  he  never  felt  so  clever  as 
when  he  had  done  a  fellow  creature,  or  mocked  their  necessities, 
it  was  such  a  confounded  proof  of  folly  to  want  anything  in  this 
world,  much  less  to  want  everything ;  and  folly  is  a  thing,  for 
which  of  course  cleverness  can  have  no  toleration. 

"  Oh !  your  humble  servant,"  rejoined  Slimeycraft,  "  I'm 
awake,  but  I  really  was  alarmed  at  first,  and  thought  you  were 
forgetting,  and  fancying  you  were  at  Frothinton ;  not  that  we 
bought  souls  in  that  market  after  such  an  extravagant  fashion, 
— no,  no  ;  we  managed  better  than  that  by  making  the  gud- 
geons pay  for  them — ha !  ha !  ha !  snug's  the  word ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  lowering  his  voice, 
"  what  about  Austraha  ?  Do  you  think  you  shall  be  able  to 
manage  that  ? " 

"  Why  the  separating  the  children  from  the  mother,  makes 
it  not  only  more  difficult,  but  a  dooced  deal  more  expensive  you 
see,"  responded  Slimeycraft ;  "  but,"  added  he,  "  we  had  better 
talk  it  over  to-morrow,  either  at  my  chamber,  or  at  yours,  for 
the  street  is  no  place  for  such  discussions." 

"  No,  only  you  see,  my  dear  fellow,"  rejoined  his  chent,  lay- 
ing his  hand  somewhat  forcibly  upon  Shmey craft's  wrist,  as  they 
walked    on  towards  the   corner  of  the    colonnade,  where  the 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  305 

brougham  of  tlie  former  was  awaiting  him,  "  I  cannot  be  ham- 
pered with  those  d — d  children,  now  they  are  every  day  getting 
bigger,  and  the  whole  thing  will  be  such  a  devil  of  a  drawback 
upon  my  whole  career,  and  ray  utter  ruin,  if  my  aunt  should 
discover  it,  so  that  I  am  in  a  fever  till  they',  are  off.  My  own 
opinion  is  that  she  will  die  on  the  voyage.  Have  you  looked 
w^ell  over  that  d — d  certificate  ?  Are  you  quite  sure  that  there 
is  no  flaw  in  it  ?  Or  none  that  can  be  made  ?  " 

"Impregnable  as  the  rock  of  Gibraltar,"  fiatised  Shmey- 
craft,  adding,  "  so  much  for  the  wisdom  of  employing  country 
practitioners  ! " 

"  Well,  well ;  there  is  no  use  in  reproaching  me  now,  or  go- 
ing back ;  unfortunately  I  did  not  know  you  then,  and  I  was 
such  a  mere  boy  !  And  those  d — d  women  always  take  advan- 
tage of  one  if  they  can, — I  think  I  have  done  wonders,  in  keep- 
ing her  quiet  all  these  years,  but  a  daudle  of  a  wife  is  the  very 
d — 1,  for  even  when  they  begin  to  die,  they  are  so  long  about 
it,  that  one's  patience  gets  quite  exhausted." 

"  They  say,"  rejoined  Slimey craft,  passing  his  hands  under 
the  tails  of  his  coat  behind,  and  assuming  a  sort  of  jaunty  step, 
equivalent  to  an  equestrian  rising  in  his  stirrups,  as  he  approach- 
ed his  own  closer  to  his  companion's  face,  "  that  all  work  may 
be  expedited  except  lawyer's  work,  and  you  who  know  so  much 
about  the  old  German  Alchymists,  I  wonder  you  don't  know  of 
that  little  narcotic  for  terminating  obstacles,  that  they  used  to 
call  powder  of  Paradise, — eh  ?  " 

"  What  the  d — 1  do  you  mean,  sir  !  "  cried  the  other,  re- 
treating backwards  two  steps,  as  if  an  adder  had  literally  stung 
him. 

"  Very  well  acted  indeed  !  but  still  rather  over  done  with  me, 
who  have  had  pretty  well  the  engrossing  of  the  whole  skin,  and 
know  to  a  flourish,  that  there  is  not  a  white  spot  left  on  it,"  said 
Slimeycraft,  first  shrugging  up  his  shoulders,  and  then  arranging 
his  collar. 


306  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Pardon  me,  ray  dear  Slimeycraft ;  but,  I  was  thinking  of 
something  else." 

"  Of  some  07ie  else  I  suppose  ;  drinking  delicious  poison  from 
her  eyes,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  eh  !  Well,  every  one  to  their 
taste,  but  I  prefer  delicious  porter  from  an  oyster  house  !  So 
owe  reevoir  ;  as  the  fine  people  say,  though  that  reevoir  mayn't 
think  himself  particularly  ill-used,  they  generally  owe  every  one 
else  too." 

And  the  clever  attorney  extended  one  stumpy  finger  to  the 
clever  man,  as  the  latter  got  into  his  carriage,  in  the  most  patron- 
izing and  offensive  manner,  so  that  as  he  cried  out  "  to  the  Al- 
bany," and  drew  up  the  window,  he  reheved  himself  by  mutter- 
ing, "  d — d  vulgar  beast !  " 

He  had  been  obliged  to  return  home  to  repair  the  disorders 
of  his  dress,  as  well  as  those  of  his  mind,  which  brought  it  to 
half-past  two  in  the  morning  before  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  ar- 
rived at  the  Clarendon. 

"  Please  sir,"  said  the  waiter,  as  soon  as  they  had  reached 
the  dining-room  door,  "  it  is  Mr.  Benaraby's  orders,  that  none  of 
the  gentlemen  who  sup  with  him  are  to  be  announced." 

"  Most  Downing  Street !  most  diplomatic  !  already,"  thought 
the  new  arrival,  as  the  waiter  silently  flung  open  the  door,  leav- 
ing him  to  circumnavigate  a  large  Indian  screen,  which  having 
done,  he  came  in  s^ght  of  a  well-spread  horse-shoe  table,  sur- 
rounded by  some  half-dozen  men  beside  the  host,  all  of  whom 
were  strangers  to  him,  with  the  exception  of  Caesar  Coakington, 
Blackiswhite,  of  the  "  Morning  Pufi","  and  young  Maiden,  the 
millionnaire.  Lady  Mabel  Maiden's  step-son. 

Coakington  appeared  quite  to  have  cut  his  old  familiar 
friend,  the  ribbon  of  his  eyeglass,  upon  his  sudden  elevation  to 
the  Attorney  Generalship  ;  but  indeed  great  men  generally  do 
consider  as  they  get  on  in  the  world,  that  friends,  like  pasties, 
are  only  made  to  he  cut ;  he  now  sat  with  intense  ease,  but  at 
the  same  time  with  profound  dignity,  in  a  large  velvet  library 
chair,  the  dignity  however  predominating,  as  if  he  had  already 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  30*7 

been  listening  to,  and  minuting  a  state  trial  in  the  House  of 
Lords ;  \Yhicli  did  not  prevent  his  evidently  affecting  young 
Maiden,  towards  whom  his  manner  was  a  happy  mixture  of  the 
paternal,  the  pi'otecting,  and  the  "  Tm  monstrously  obliged  to 
your  The  young  gentleman  w^ho  was  the  object  of  this  cour- 
teous mosaic,  was  still  in  deep  mourning  for  his  sire,  some  four 
months  dead  ;  the  only  thing  not  mourning  about  him  was  his 
face,  which  was  ruddy,  round,  and  cherubimical  in  the  extreme, 
with  an  eruption  upon  each  cheek  of  little  hay -coloured  stub- 
ble, "vvhich  Benaraby  assured  him  were  whiskers  looming  in  the 
future ;  but  w^hich  appeared  much  more  like  so  many  capillary 
giggles — laughing  at  their  own  abortive  attempts  to  grow  ; 
though  five  and  twenty,  he  looked  about  eighteen,  and  was  con- 
tinually trying  to  shake  his  neck  into  a  comfortable  niche,  with- 
in a  very  stiff  white  cravat,  that  was  a  something  between  a 
pillory  and  a  five-barred  gate  ;  but  more  it  is  to  be  supposed 
like  the  latter,  as  he  kept  slapping  his  napkin,  which  he  had 
got  into  a  long  wisp  for  the  purpose,  against  the  open  palm  of 
his  left  hand,  as  if  he  had  been  cracking  a  hunting  whip,  while, 
although  he  addressed  his  conversational  gems  chiefly  to  Coak 
ington,  he  yet  uttered  them  as  loudly  as  if  he  had  been  ha- 
ranguing a  mob  from  a  hustings.  On  his  left,  sat  Blackiswhite 
of  the  "  Morning  Puff,"  silently  sipping  his  wine,  and  looking, 
and  listening  with  evident  admiration  to  all  the  platitudes  that 
fell  from  the  richest  commoner  in  England  ;  and,  moreover 
an  embryo  lord,  while  he  (the  beatified  editor)  kept  flashing 
the  dazzling  facets  of  a  huge  diamond  ring  that  he  wore  on 
his  little  finger,  in  all  directions ;  of  which  flashings  he  might 
well  be  proud,  as  they  were  the  only  brilliant  things  that  ever 
issued  from  his  hands  ;  further  on,  on  Blackiswhite's  right,  sat 
a  keen-eyed,  swarthy-looking  man,  in  the  umbrageous  shade  of 
a  very  long  nose,  with  very  projecting  eye-brows,  and  a  com- 
plexion, which  looked  as  if  the  darkness  which  had  overspread 
the  land  of  Egypt,  upon  being  dispelled,  had  taken  refuge  in  this 
gentleman's  face  ;  he  was  a  Sir  Benjamin  Bullion,  and  next  him 


308  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

sat  an  old  young  man,  of  unexceptionable  dress  and  address,  a 
Lord  Cyril  Sinecure,  who  had  graduated  in  Grosvenor  Square, 
having  for  the  last  fifteen  years  alternated  between  foreign  affairs 
in  Downing  Street,  and  foreign  love  affairs,  in  Paris  and  Vienna, 
till  it  became  difficult  to  know  which  he  was  most  attached  to, 
the  British  Legation  or  foreign  fascination,  so  nicely  had  he 
poised  duty  and  devotion,  between  glove  boxes  and  despatch 
boxes ;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  diplomacy  w^as  a  sort  of  heir-loom 
in  his  family,  for  his  maternal  grandfather,  Lord  Pendip,  had 
been  Ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  was  supposed  to  have 
shared  the  good  graces  of  Catherine  with  Potemkin,  at  least 
the  Dowager  Lady  Pendip's  diamonds,  some  of  the  finest  in 
England,  were  thought  to  have  come  from  that  imperial  source  ; 
and  as  all  diplomacy  is  sense  to  be  a  sort  of  diamond-cut-dia- 
mond, it  is  lucky  when  it  has  such  diamonds  to  cut !  and  yet 
not  to  be  supposed  that  any  diplomat  would,  or  could,  cut  such 
diamonds  merely  for  the  sake  of  that  vulgar  jog-trot  obsolete 
virtue  called  probity.  The  other  two  guests  were  minor  stare 
from  the  Minories,  apparently  in  the  wake  of  Sir  Benjamin  Bul- 
lion, one  a  Mr.  Moses  Levi,  almost  as  great  upon  'Change  as 
Sir  Benjamin  himself;  the  other  a  Mr.  Eliphaz  Leshen,  not 
Eliphaz  the  Temanite,  the  second  comforter  of  Job,  who  found 
it  so  difficult  to  refrain  from  speaking,  nay,  who  asserted  to  his 
afflicted  friend  the  impossibility  of  so  doing,  but  a  much  fitter 
person  for  a  «/o6,  inasmuch  as  that  he  never  spoke^  but  had  a 
tongue  as  impregnable,  and  a  mind  as  unbreakopenable  as  one 
of  Mr.  Hobbs's  marvellous  locks,  and  for  this  reason  Mr.  Ben- 
araby  had  just  inducted  him  into  the  office  of  his  Private  Sec- 
retary. Before  the  former,  w^ere  divers  long  slips  of  paper,  with 
an  incalculable  amount  of  figures  upon  each  of  them,  thick  as 
the  hieroglyphics  upon  Cleopatra's  needle ;  these  he  occasional- 
ly passed  to  Sir  Benjamin  Bullion,  who,  with  a  colossal  gold 
pencil  case,  not  unlike  a  model  of  the  Duke  of  York's  pillar,  and 
therefore  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  commemoration  of  chimeri- 
cal  thousands !  occasionally  drew  a  line  across  one  whole  row 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  S09 

of  these  figures,  or  here,  or  there,  merely  altered  the  solitary 
value  of  others,  as  he  silently  sipped  his  wine,  knit  his  brows, 
and  cleared  his  throat,  without,  however,  (notwithstanding  that 
oratorical  preliminary,)  taking  the  slightest  part  in  the  conver- 
sation. Upon  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  Benaraby 
rose,  and  with  a  sort  of  official  circular  look  at  the  rest  of  the 
party,  said,  presenting  him,  and  at  the  same  time  making  room 
for  him  beside  himself: — 

"My  friend,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars — and  I  hope  I  may  add, 
one  of  us.^^ 

To  which  the  gentleman  so  apostrophized  returned  a  con- 
descending and  patronizing  smile,  drawing  up,  however,  haugh- 
tily, at  the  end  of  it,  as  he  seated  himself  beside  the  host,  so  as 
not  to  be  guilty  of  the  greenery  of  accepting  an  anonymous  po- 
sition. 

Thus  presented  to  their  notice,  the  new  Attorney-General 
gave  him  a  sort  of  Lord  Burleigh  nod,  accompanied  with  a 
"  how  do,  Ferrars  ? "  Blackiswhite  of  the  ''  Morning  Puff,"  who 
always  took  out  his  public  homage  in  private  familiarity,  when- 
ever an  opportunity  offered,  merely  kissed  his  little  finger  to  him 
with  the  diamond  ring  upon  it,  "  assisted "  by  the  two  next 
fingers  to  it,  as  he  himself  would  have  said,  in  giving  an  account 
in  his  widely  circulated  columns  !  of  some  fashionable  young 
lady,  done  into  matrimony  by  several  Parsons.  Lord  Cyril's 
smile  and  bow  were  at  once  bland,  blank,  and  binocular,  equal- 
ly befitting  the  most  intricate  diplomacy,  or  the  most  stupid 
dinner  party.     Young  Maiden  merely  roared  out : — 

"  That's  your  sort !  old  fellow,"  thereby  meaning  no  doubt 
that  the  clever  man  was  crusty^  as  to  illustrate  the  proposition, 
he  hurled  a  bit  of  the  crust  of  a  roll,  beside  him,  at  the  new 
arrival. 

"  A  very  thorough  bre(a)d  way  of  greeting  your  friends,  in- 
deed, my  Lord'^'  said  Blackiswhite,  anticipating  the  booby 
honoui-s  of  the  milUonnaire^  and  then  trying  to  look  modest,  as 
if  he  had  really  said  a  good  thing.     And  so,  in  his  own  estima- 


310  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Hon,  he  had;  for  had  he  not  said  my  Lord!  and  Hke  most 
English  people  of  his  class,  he  thought  far  more  of  the  "  host " 
of  Lords,  than  he  did  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrare  having  returned  Maiden's  fire  with  a 
petulance  that  nearly  blinded  that  already  not  too  clear-sighted 
individual,  the  Minories  next  rose  to  him,  but  he  not  being  much 
in  their  way,  (except  that,  like  them,  he  too  was  always  upon 
'  Change  !)  they  almost  instantaneously  reseated  themselves. 

"  What  will  you  have,  my  dear  fellow  ?  "  said  Benaraby  to 
his  friend,  when  they  were  all  reseated  ; — now,  considering  how 
much^  or  how  littU.,  this  query  might  involve  under  existing 
circumstances,  it  was  rather  a  cruel  one.  However,  in  order  to 
blunt  its  allegorical  edge,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  turned  it  upon 
the  Amphytrion,  while  Blackiswhite  made  another  attempt  at 
a  calembourg  en  action^  by  saying,  as  he  pushed  it  over, — 
"  Here  is  a  dinde  a  la  financier  en  surprise  !  " 

"  Humph  ! — useless,  because  impossible — would  dish  the 
whole  affair,  and  swamp  you  at  starting,"  muttered  Sir  Benja- 
min BulHon,  vigorously  passing  the  heavy  gold  pencil  through 
some  item  of  the  figures  before  him. 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  think  so,"  soto-voced  Benaraby,  in  a  perti- 
naciously adhesive  tone. 

And  then,  passing  a  slip  of  paper  to  Ferrars,  he  said,  "  Here 
is  our  bill  of  fare  ;  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it  ? "  added  he, 
pouring  out  a  bumper  of  claret. 

It  was  a  list  of  the  new  Ministry.  At  the  head  appeared 
Lord  Redby  as  Premier,  Benaraby  as  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer ;  then  followed  the  Home,  Foreign,  and  Colonial  Secre- 
taries, Lords  of  the  Admiralty,  other  walking  gentlemen,  and 
legal  magnates,  among  whom  Mr.  Caesar  Coakington  as  "  Sir 
Caesar  Coakington,"  figured  as  Attorney-General.  But  no  post, 
or  void  for  a  post,  did  the  clever  man  see  assigned  for  himself 
So  that,  although  up  to  the  present  time  he  had  always  greatly 
admired  Benaraby's  impudence,  he  now  only  marvelled  that  it 
should  have  reached  such  a  climax  as  lo  have  publicly  expressed 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  311 

SO  audacious  a  hope  as  that  he,  Ferrars,  would  join  his  party, 
when  there  was  evidently  nothing  wherewith  to  unite  him  to 
it! 

"  ^Yhat  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  asked  the  former,  with  even 
more  than  his  usual  sang  froid,  as  the  other  returned  him  the 
list. 

"  I  see,"  replied  Mr.  Fonsonby  Ferrars,  w^ith  one  of  his  most 
measured,  but  at  the  same  time  his  most  compressed  sneers, 
"that I  have  to  congratulate  you  upon  being  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  and  Coakington  upon  being  Attorney-General." 

"Ah!  here's  one  thing  I  had  forgotten,"  said  Benaraby, 
hastily  scribbling  on  the  back  of  the  list  of  the  new  Cabinet 
these  words — 

*'  Wait  till  these  people  are  gone,  for  I  have  much  to  say 
to  you;"  appending  to  them  the  following  admonitory  triplet : — 

"T\i  taraen  effugito  quae  tristia  mentem 
Solicitant,  procul  esse  jube  curasque  metumque 
Pallentem  ultrices  iras,  sint  omnia  larta." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  took  the  hint,  cleared  his  brow, 
poked  all  his  darker  passions  into  the  background  for  the 
present,  and  giving  his  mind  a  sort  of  convivial  shake,  said  with 
an  air  of  the  most  charming  honhommie,  as  he  walked  into  the 
dinde  a  la  financier  en  suiyrise — 

"  Well,  my  dear  Coakinoton,  I  congratulate  you,  wdth  all 
my  heart.  (?)  But  how  did  Lord  Redby  get  over  that  little 
pendent  fifteen  thousand  pounds  about  the  Bouverie  affair  ? 
It's  a  crying  enormity  in  our  laws  that  men  should  have  to  pay 
such  sums  for  a  little  delassement  of  that  sort ;  and  I  hope  by 
the  time  you  are  Lord  Chancellor,  you  will  bring  in  a  law  that 
the  whole  and  sole  penalty  should  fall  on  the  d — d  woman." 

"  Come  !  my  dear  fellow,  I  must  say  that  I  think  our  laws 
are  quite  one-sided  enough,  and  sufficiently  against  woman  al- 
ready. But  here  is  the  friend  in  need  that  w\as  my  friend  in 
c/eec?,"  concluded  he,  laying  his  hand  upon  young  Maiden's 


312  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

shoulder ;  "  for  he  it  was,  who  paid  that  fifteen  thousand  pounds 
stumbhng  block  for  me." 

"  All  right ! "  cried  that  worthy,  winking  his  right  eye,  and 
twitching  his  head  into  another  corner  of  his  stiff  white  pillory. 
"  Nothing  for  nothing,  you  know,  and  I'm  to  have  a  peerage. 
My  governor  might  have  had  it,  which  I  should  have  liked 
better,  as  a  peerage  is  about  the  only  thing  it  is  better  to  come 
in  last  for,  than  first.  Only,  poor  fellow  !  he  was  such  a  con- 
founded democrat." 

"  Surely  you  mean  aristocrat,  my  dear  Maiden,"  laughed 
Coakington,  "  for  '  an  aristocrat  pays  his  debts,  abhoi*s  a  beggar, 
and  tnakes  a  handsome  provision  for  his  son  ! ' — his  charity 
having  improved  upon  the  proverb  and  ended  where  it  began. 
Such  at  least  is  Junius's  definition  of  the  term." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  Junius,"  rejoined  the  future  peer, 
with  amiable  candour,  "  except  that  he  was  the  man  who  in- 
vented the  Rockingham  teapots  (!)  wasn't  he  ?  but  Fm  sorry  to 
say  I  know  a  deuced  deal  more  about  the  Jews,  than  since  the 
governor's  death  I  find  it  agreeable  to  know ;  but  it's  an  ill 
wind  that  blows  nobody  good.  So  here's  to  you  Ben,  my  boy, 
added  he,  nodding  to  Mr.  Benaraby  with  another  wink,  as  he 
brought  his  right  hand  down  with  terrific  force  upon  the  broad 
open  surface  of  his  champagne  glass,  so  as  to  make  the  w^ine 
that  remained  in  it  effervesce.  But  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  who 
feared  that  this  exclusive  compliment  to  the  host,  elegant  and 
refined  as  it  was,  might  yet  be  considered  personal  by  the  three 
gentlemen  from  the  other  side  Jordan,  now  came  to  the  rescue, 
in  asking  by  what  title  this  amiable  specimen  of  "  the  wealth  of 
nations  "  was  to  be  raised  to  the  peerage  ? 

"  As  Lord  Assfleecem,"  said  he,  with  as  much  miniver  dig- 
nity as  if  he  had  already  donned  his  robes. 

"  Ha  1  ha !  ha  !  then  decidedly,"  rejoined  the  clever  man, 
"  it  can't  be  called  a  mere  unmeaning  title,  for  they  have  given 
you  a  devise  parlante  with  it." 

"  Ah  !  very  likely,  but  I  know  nothing  of  heraldry.  Lady 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  313 

Mab's  tlie  woman  for  that.  I  wish  you  had  heard  her  blowing 
up  Adams,  for  putting  an  old  maid's  instead  of  a  widow's 
lozenge  on  her  carriage." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  I've  heard  of  a  jury  of  matrons  ;  but  it  was 
a  new  idea  of  Adams's  to  empanel  an  old  maid  about  a 
widow's  carriage  !  "  laughed  Coakington. 

And  w^hile  this  spiritual  conversation  was  going  on  at  the 
end  of  the  table,  Lord  Cyril  Sinecure  was  with  great  affability 
and  affectation,  talking  a  little  Morning  Puff,  with  Blackiswhite, 
and  blending  with  an  inimitable  savoirefaire  which  must  have 
quite  charmed  that  dlte  of  editors,  ministers,  marriages,  and 
Mehemet  Ali,  Brussels  lace,  new  beauties,  the  Chinese  revolu- 
tion, and  Cochin  China  fowls,  dry  toast.  Dowagers,  buttered 
eggs,  the  Bosphorus  and  Belgravia.  They  were  now  at  the 
"  article,  beauty,"  of  this  charming  colloquial  encylopoedia,  dis- 
cussing the  reigning  belles  of  the  season.  Blackiswhite,  who, 
as  in  duty  bound,  knew  the  peerage  and  baronetage  by  heart, 
and  who  of  course  thought  it  necessary  to  know  them  also  by 
sight,  was  a  systematic  opera-goer ;  and  Lord  Cyril  was  asking 
him  if  he  had  seen  the  new  beauty.  Miss  Panmuir ;  whom  he 
(Lord  Cyril)  considered  decidedly  the  most  charming,  namely 
the  most  uniformly  attractive  person  whom  he  had  seen  for 
years. 

"  That  is,"  added  he,  "  all  her  points  are  good,  hands,  feet, 
tourneur  ;  gracefully  turned  head,  perfect  little  pearls  of  ears, 
enchanting  mouth  and  teeth,  and  that  dreamy,  drooping,  orien- 
tal sort  of  double  eyelid  which  makes  the  deep  blue  eye  beneath 
look  like  a  violet  peeping  through  a  drift  of  snow.  And  I  myself 
think  detail^  that  is  points  in  man  or  woman,  quite  as  essential 
as  in  a  horse  ;  for  in  all  creations  whether  in  art  or  nature,  it  is 
the  little  things  that  tell :  for  instance,  in  a  picture  it  is  the 
slight  touches  that  stamp  it  as  a  work  of  genius ;  in  musio  it  is 
the  gentle  half  tones  that  thrill  through  one ;  in  adorning  the 
person,  or  decorating  a  room,  it  is  the  little  things,  the  undefi- 
nable  nothings,  that  give  to  each  their  grace ;  and  above  all,  \i\ 
14 

m 


314  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

manner,  it  is  little  things  that  attract  or  repel — in  short,  that 
cancel  or  enhance  the  value  of  all^ social  intercourse." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Blackiswhite  perfectly  subscribed 
to  these  truths,  and  would  have  done  so  equally,  had  they  come 
under  the  head  of  the  fictions,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  puffing. 
But  he  said  he  had  not  been  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  Miss  Panmuir,  though  he  had  heard  she  had  been  at  the 
opera  that  evening  ;  that  one  Bhghtyfluff,  "  a  small-beer  poet " 
and  personal  friend  of  his,  had  even  described  her  dress  to  him, 
by  saying  that  she  had  on  a  dahlia-coloured  velvet  cloak,  lined 
with  white  satin,  and  trimmed  with  angels'  wings?" 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Lord  Cyril,  who  was  as  proud  of  his  technical 
knowledge  of  the  component  parts  of  women's  dress  as  a 
geologist  might  be  of  his  savoir  in  different  strata, — "  Very 
poetical  indeed  !  But  I  understand  what  he  means,  and  think 
the  simile  excellent;  for  I  liave  seen  the  mantelet  in  question  ; 
it  is  trimmed  with  grebe,  and  the  pure,  silvery,  luminous — yet 
downy,  soft,  look  of  those  feathers,  do  convey  to  one  the  idea 
of  an  angel's  wing.  When  I  was  last  at  Geneva,  I  spent  a 
whole  fortnight  at  Clarens,  shooting  grebes  to  get  enough  to 
trim  a  court  train  for  my  mother.  They  are  the  most  difficult 
birds  in  the  world  to  capture,  as  one  is  obliged  to  watch  till 
they  come  down  to  the  margin  of  the  lake  to  feed." 

"  Which  would  be  shocking  ! "  chimed  in  Benaraby,  "  if 
one  could  believe  in  metempsychosis,  for  only  imagine  Guild- 
hall filled  with  a  phalanx  of  keen  sporting  filial  grebes,  marking 
down  each  unsuspecting  alderman  !  as  he  revelled  over  his 
turtle  and  cold  punch,  in  order  to  skin  him,  to  give  their  mam- 
ma grebes  a  trimming ! 

"  Well  turnabout  is  fair  play,"  laughed  Coakington,  "  for  no 
doubt  their  mammas  often  gave  them  one." 

"  Aye,"  chuckled  Maiden,  "  that's  the  only  good  I  can  see 
in  having  a  step  maternal — they  have  no  absolute  right  over 
one,  and  whatever  they  do  or  don't  do  they  are  sure  to  be 
thought  wrong." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  315 

"  Is  it  true,"  asked  Blackiswhite  of  Lord  Cyril,  wishing 
professionally  to  gain  as  much  information  as  possible  in  the 
"  Marriage  in  High  Life  "  line,  "  that  this  beautiful  Miss  Pan- 
muir  is  to  be  married  to  a  Mr.  Lancaster  ?  I  should  have 
thought  with  her  beauty  she  might  have  aspired  to  something 
above  a  commoner  ! " 

"Well!  I  don't  know,  Lancaster  is  a  particularly  gentle- 
manlike, agreeable  fellow,  and  splendidly  handsome ! "  said 
Lord  Cyril,  with  a  candour  and  cordiality  that  did  him  credit ; 
"  besides,"  added  he,  "  he  is  well  connected,  a  near  relation  I 
beheve  of  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale's." 

"  'No  relation  at  all !  merely  a  toady  or  hanger  on  of  the 
family,"  roundly  asserted  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  without  the 
slightest  data  for  this  statement ;  but  deeming  that  in  verbal, 
as  in  physical  warfare,  random  shots  often  do  mischief. 

"  Oh,  indeed ! "  rejoined  Lord  Cyril.  "  I  had  understood 
he  w^as  a  relation  ;  but,  however  that  may  be,  he's  a  devihsh 
jrood-lookino-  fellow." 

"  He  's  the  only  fellow  /  ever  saw  look  decidedly  well  in  a 
white  choker,"  put  in  Maiden. 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  indulged  in  an  unuttered  regret  that 
the  article  in  question  did  not  literally  deserve  the  slang  appel- 
lation which  the  future  Lord  Assileecem  had  bestowed  on  it. 

"  I  hear,"  said  Blackiswhite,  helping  himself  to  a  glass  of 
burgundy,  and  raising  it  to  his  lips  as  if  to  pledge  himself  to 
the  fact,  and  at  the  same  time  to  reiterate  that  other  great  fact, 
the  diamond  ring  !  "  I  hear  that  Miss  Panmuir's  smile  is  per- 
fectly bewildering  ! " 

"  Xot  forgetting  her  voice,"  said  Lord  Cyril,  "  one  feels  it  is 
with  her,  quite  the 

"Dulee  ridentem  lalagen  amabo 
Dulce  loquentem — " 

"  Ah  !  "  sneered  the  clever  man, — 

"  Stultus  qnando  videt  quod  pulchra  pnella  ridet, 
Turn  fatuiis  credit  se  quod  amare  velit." 


316  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Lord  Cyril,  waiving  the  grossness  of  this  unprovoked  insult 
with  most  admirable  command  of  temper,  and  perfect  good 
breeding,  justly  considering  that  the  man  who  could  have 
permitted  such  licence  to  his  temper,  was  too  little  of  a  gentle- 
man to  put  him  on  a  par  with  himself,  by  taking  up  the  offence 
— said — 

"  As  /  never  aspired  to  Miss  Panmuir's  love,  however 
egregious  my  folly  may  be  (for  he  studiously  avoided  using  the 
literal  word  of  "  however  great  a  fool  I  may  be  "),  "  it  could  not 
go  the  length  of  construing  her  most  sweet  smile  into  love  for 
me  ;  my  text  being  her 

'  Delectata  ilia  risit  tarn  blandum.' 

I  merely  meant  that  scrap  of  Horace  as  an  illustration  of  the 
lovabihty  of  both  her  smile  and  her  speech." 

"  Ah,  clearly  so — clearly  so,"  said  the  new  Attorney-Gen- 
eral, passing  three  decanters  that  had  been  for  some  time 
stationary  before  him.  "  Lord  Cyril,  my  dear  Ferrai-s,  was  quite 
stating  the  case  the  other  way  ;  for  it  was  he,  who,  like  Faustus 
the  shepherd,  was  exclaiming — 

"  'Me  aspiciens  motis  blande  subrisit  occulis.'" 

Benaraby  touched  the  clever  man  under  the  table  with  his 
foot,  and  frowned  and  bit  his  lip,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  For 
goodness'  sake  donH  injure  our  j^arty  before  you  have  joined  it, 
by  getting  up  a  sort  of  schoolboy  quarrel  about  nothing." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Lord  Cyril,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  rallying  so  as  to  satisfy  the  host,  and  with  what  he 
meant  to  be  a  bland  smile,  "  you  quite  mistook  me,  if  you 
thought  for  one  moment  that  I  could  have  uttered  such  a  quo- 
tation in  reference  to  you.  I  was  thinking  of  that  conceited 
prig  of  a  Lancaster,  who  evidently,  upon  the  strength  of  her 
sweet  smile,  thinks  that  that  silly  girl  is  in  love  with  him." 

"  She  might  prove  her  silliness  more  indisputably,"  rejoined 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  31*7 

Lord  Cyril,  bowing  coldly,  at  the  same  time  looking  at  his  watch, 
when,  announcing  that  it  was  half-past  three,  he  rose  to  depart ; 
a  move  that  was  soon  followed  by  all  the  others,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  Sir  Benjamin  Bullion  ha\ing 
a  little  mysterious  conversation  at  parting  behind  the  screen 
with  the  host.  After  the  fashion  of  the  Egyptian  priests,  the  two 
friends  at  length  found  themselves  together,  and  drawing  up 
their  forces,  namely,  themselves,  in  two  easy-chairs,  each  placed 
himself  opposite  the  other. 

"  Well ;  my  dear  Ferrars !  "  was  the  first  shot  fired  by  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

"  Well ;  my  dear  Benaraby  I "  responded  the  clever  man, 
without  wasting  any  more  ammunition. 

"  That's  a  neat  waistcoat  of  yours,"  said  the  host,  which 
might  be  considered  in  the  fight  of  the  French  army  taking  off 
their  hats  to  the  English  troops  at  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  pre- 
vious to  commencing  hostilities,  politely  saying,  "  Apres  votes, 
messieurs  ?  " 

"  And  that  an  invaluable  coat  of  yours,  my  dear  Benaraby," 
retorted  the  other,  with  a  laugh  that  was  anything  but  musical; 
"for  I  never, saw  one  before  that  bore  turning  so  well.  Egad  ! 
if  I  were  not  afraid  of  hurting  Xugee's  feelings,  I'd  employ 
'  Moses  and  Son '  myself." 

"  They  knew  you  would,  and  therefore  deputed  me  to  mea- 
sure you,"  replied  his  companion,  wath  his  usual  imperturbable 
sangfroid,  caressing  his  chin  with  the  fore-finger  and  thumb  of 
his  left  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  Well,  I'm  rather  icide  across  the  cAesf," 
rejoined  the  clever  man,  throwing  back  his  shoulders,  "  which, 
as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  I  think  it  is  right  you  should 
know." 

"Ha!  ha!  lia!" 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

And  the  two  friends  laughed  for  some  seconds  genuinely 
and  heartily.  Having  by  this  last  pjiss  unmesmerised  them- 
selves, they  began  to  speak  and  act  in  their  natural  characters. 


318  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Come;  "  said  Benaraby,  advancing  his  chair  a  few  inches 
nearer  to  that  of  his  vis-d-vis,  "  when  one  takes  office  one  must 
attend  to  business ;  and  I  now  repeat  to  ]/ou,  in  earliest,  the 
question  you  asked  me,  in  jest,  some  months  ago,  when  one 
morning,  at  your  rooms  in  the  Albany,  you  said  to  me,  '  What 
do  you  want  ? ' " 

"  Earnest  for  earnest,  what  have  you  got  to  give  ?  " 

"  Humf)h  ! — to  be  candid  with  you, 

'  Tres  mihi  convivse  prope  dissentire  videntur, 
Poscentes  vario  multum  diversa  palato,  <fec.'  " 

"And  our  idea  was — as  we  cannot,  at  our  fii-st  onset,  make 
the  hmited  number  of  posts  a  minister  has  to  bestow  multiplex, 
in  order  to  accommodate  the  innumerable  aspirants  for  each, — 
I  repeat,  our  idea  was,  to  get  our  great  guns,  like  yourself,  to 
join  us,  without  at  first  bestowing  on  them  any  ostensible 
office ;  which  would  varnish  over  their  succession  as  conscien- 
tious and  disinterested  in  the  eyes  of  that  very  respectable,  but 
not  very  clear-sighted,  old  lady,  the  public.  Now  comes  the 
per-contra  side  of  the  account :  to  a  fellow  who,  like  yourself, 
has  so  many  different  irons  always  in  the  fire — as,  indeed,  all 
clever  men  have — there  is,  I  need  not  tell  you,  a  sort  of  all-pow- 
erful, though  occult,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  because  occult,  in- 
fluence with  a  ministry — a  sort  of  getting  one's  ends  accom- 
plished in  all  directions  ;  in  short,  what  is  vulgarly  called  getting 
one's  wicked  w^ill  of  people,  which  is  woith  all  the  nominal  and 
palpable  offices  in  the  world,  more  especially  to  a  man  of  your 
calibre.     Don't  you  perceive,  my  dear  Ferrars  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  perceive  clearly,"  rejoined  he,  with  one  of  his 
bitter  smiles,  "  that  selling  oneself  for  a  mouthful  of  ministerial 
2')romises  is  much  like  having  the  office  of  register  of  the  Star 
Chamber,  which  his  relations,  the  Cecils,  bestowed  on  Sir  Francis 
Bacon,  but  upon  the  income  of  which  he  did  not  enter  till 
twenty  years  after,  which  caused  him  truly  to  say,  that  '  it  u'as 
like  another  man^s  ground  buttalling  upon  his  house,  ivhich 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  319 

might  mend  his  2^ros2Kct\,  hid  did  not  fill  his  barn.''  And  i/ou, 
as  a  Protectionist,  ought  to  know,  my  dear  Benaraby,  that  every 
man  wants  his  hsu'n  filled  with  something  besides — chaff." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  my  dear  Ferrars,  just  as  you  please,"  re- 
torted his  firiend, v/iih  a  sort  of '  I-wash-my-hands-of-you  shrug;' 
"  why  not,  while  you  are  about  it,  take  another  rasher  off  that 
Bacon,  if  anything  rasher  can  be  ?  Perhaps  you  had  better 
at  once  write  to  the  Queen,  warning  her  against  Lord  Redby,  as 
Bacon  did  to  J  ames  about  Lord  Coke,  and  in  the  selfsame  words : 
they  would  make  rather  a  sensation  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
Let  me  see — how  did  the  expostulation  run  ?  Oh  !  ah  !  '  Now 
I  beseech  your  Majesty,  let  me  put  you  the  present  case  truly. 
If  you  take  my  Lord  Coke  (Redby),  this  will  follow :  first,  your 
Majesty  shall  put  an  over-ruling  nature  in  an  over-ruling  place, 
which  may  breed  an  extreme  ;  next  you  shall  blunt  his  industry 
in  matters  of  finance,  which  seemeth  to  aim  at  another  place ; 
and,  lastly,  popular  men  are  no  sure  mounters  for  your  INfajesty's 
saddle.  If  you  make  my  Lord  Hobart  (the  Chief  Justice  of 
the  Common  Pleas),  you  shall  have  a  judge  at  the  upper  end 
of  your  council  board,  and  another  at  the  lower  end,  whereby 
your  Majesty  will  find  your  prerogative  pent ;  for,  though  there 
should  be  emulation  between  them,  yet,  as  Legisto,  they  will 
agree  in  magnifying  that  wherein  they  are  best.  For  myself,  I 
can  only  present  your  Majesty  with  gloria  in  ohsequio.^  Now, 
you  know  your  own  affairs  best,  my  dear  fellow ;  but  if  you 
would  take  my  advice  (which,  nevertheless,  I  don't  presume  to 
force  upon  you),  from  this  sapient  model  you  would  select  and 
stick  to  the  gloria  in  obsequio,  and  leave  all  the  rest." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  began  to  think  so  too,  and  taking 
council  of  his  right  ear,  which  he  pulled  vigorously,  he  said — 

"  But  the  devil  of  it  is,  you  see,  my  dear  fellow,  that  pam- 
phlet of  mine  on  Free-trade,  so  smashing  to  the  Protectionists, 
which  I  wrote  only  last  year." 

"Pooh  !  "  shrugged  Benaraby,  "  write  another /or  the  agri- 
cultural interest,  and  take  for  your  epigraph — 


820  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  '  Cum  relego  seripsisse  pudet  quia,  plurima  cerno 
Me  quoque  quae  fuerant  judice  digna  lini.' " 

"  All,  but  public  opinion  !  " 
"  Public  fiddlestick  !— 

"  'A  thing  of  wood  and  wires,  by  others  played.' 

And  tbe  deuce  is  in  it,  backed  by  the  ministry,  and  with  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  press  at  our  command,  if  we  cannot  play  upon 
that  one-stringed  instrument." 

"  Ah  !  if  it  were  but  a  one-stringed  instrument ;  but  I  fear, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  more  like  an  ^olian  harp,  giving  forth 
many  echoes  to  each  passing  breath." 

"  Then  all  the  easier  for  me,  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
to  raise  the  wind  we  choose  it  to  respond  to.  I  tell  you  what, 
Ferrars, — and  you  know  it  better  than  any  man,  without  my 
telling  it  to  you, — England  is  the  most  glorious!  arena  in  the 
world  for  public  men  ;  because  the  private  man,  and  the  pubHc 
character  are  so  completely  separated — a  man's  moral  and  his 
official  identity  not  being  linked  together  with  even  as  small  a 
segment  of  humanity  as  the  Siamese  twins ;  and  the  national 
cant  about  private  character  being  sacred ! — enables  every  man 
with  brains  in  his  head  to  lock  up  that  dead  letter,  which  some 
slow  coaches  call  principle,  in  his  strong  box,  and  put  his  wits 
out  at  the  best  interest.  A  great  nation  England,  certainly  ! 
but  then  all  their  real  wisdom  comes  from  the  East ;  and  so 
they'll  be  forced  to  acknowledge  in  time.  For  instance  :  in 
China,  when  a  mandarin  wishes  to  commit  suicide  he  rolls  up  a 
large  bolus  of  gold-leaf  and  swallows  it ;  no  sooner  arrived  at 
its  destination  than  the  gold-leaf  unrolls  itself,  and  adheres  to 
the  coats  of  his  stomach,  hke  paper  on  a  wall ;  whereupon  all 
the  natural  functions  are  suspended,  and  annihilation  ensues ; 
and  in  like  manner,  when  in  England  we  want  to  destroy  a 
man's  conscience,  we  also  administer  a  golden  pill ;  which  gild- 
ing the  conscience  hermetically,  equally  destroys  its  functions, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  321 

and  frees  its  owner  from  all  human  trammels.  Now  I  need  not 
tell  one  of  yom"  acumen,  that  to  be  in  a  position  to  have  one's 
interest  variously  and  universally  solicited,  and  to  have  this  cur- 
rent interest  represented  by  the  solid  capital  of  influence,  with 
a  ministry,  is  better  than  gold, — '  yea,  than  much  fine  gold ; 
and  sweeter  than  honey,  in  the  honeycomb  !'  Being  Sunday 
morning,  you  may  consider  that  as  my  text  if  you  like,  which 
for  novelty's  sake  I  have  put  at  the  end,  instead  of  at  the  be- 
ginning, of  my  homily." 

"  There  is  a  vast  deal  of  truth  in  what  you  say,  my  dear 
Benaraby,  only  the  stumbling  block  to  me  still  is — " 

"  Bah  !  my  dear  fellow,"  broke  in  the  other,  "  there  always 
has  been,  always  are,  and  always  will  be,  stumbling  blocks  in 
and  about  everything  terrestrial  and  celestial ;  for,  as  Sir  Tho- 
mas Browne  somewhere  or  other  in  his  Religio-Medici,  or  his 
HT/driotaphia,  I  forget  which,  speaking  of  the  anomalies  of 
creation,  says :  'There  is  another  secret  not  contained  in  the 
Scripture,  which  is  more  hard  to  comprehend,  and  put  the  hon- 
est father,  St.  Augustine  to  the  refuge  of  a  miracle,  and  that  is, 
not  only  how  the  distant  pieces  of  the  world  and  divided  islands 
should  be  first  planted  by  men,  but  inhabited  by  bears,  tigers, 
birds  of  prey,  and  noxious  animals,  beforehand.'  Now  you 
need  not  soar  into  the  altitude  of  miracles  on  account  of  7/our 
stumbling  block  (which  I  presume  to  be  your  former  publicly 
expressed  political  opinions),  for  they  need  only  put  you  to  the 
refuge  of  a  sudden  change,  which  in  state  aflfaii-s  is  always  call- 
ed conviction,  and  in  those  of  the  church,  conversion.  Then, 
with  regard  to  your  insular  anomalies :  your  former  erroneous 
opinions  were  of  course  the  wild  beasts,  birds  of  prey,  and  nox- 
ious animals,  while  your  present  ones  are  ibid  the  rich  growth 
of  pi-ogress,  implanted  by  human  wnsdom.  In  short,  you  must 
write  another  pamphlet,  or  better  still,  an  imposing  'great,  big 
book  !'  in  four  volumes  ;  suppose  you  call  it  the  "  New  Eiko- 
NOCLASTES,"*  for  our  pet  baboon,  the  public,  ever  hkes  a  hard 

*  Image  Breaker. 


322  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

nut  to  crack ;  and — "bless  its  innocent  soul ! — it  will  never 
know  that  you  have  stolen  Milton's  title  in  this  great  standard 
work.  You  must  knock  down,  right  and  left,  all  your  former 
idols,  beginning  with  yourself,  as  far  as  being  the  vehicle  of 
those  now,  in  your  estimation,  heretical  opinions ;  then  lay  it 
on  thick  about  our  national  virtues  !  purely  English  feelings ! 
our  proud  position  among  nations  as  the  grave  of  Despotism  I 
and  the  cradle  of  Liberty !  with  regard  to  any  of  our  little 
drawbacks,  pose  ^laught,  and  carry  one  on  to  our  immaculate 
virtues  !  roundly  asserting,  that  from  the  time  of  Britain's  fii-st 
Saxon  dawn,  every  Englishman  has  been  incorruptibly  virtu- 
ous !  and  every  Enghshwoman  ditto  !  and  that,  however  civil, 
religious,  and  social  abuses  may  have  disfigured,  disgraced,  and 
deteriorated  other  states,  none  !  have  ever  yet  crept  into  Eng- 
land's immortal  constitution.  After  this,  introduce  a  grandilo- 
quent appeal  to  the  whole  world,  civilized  and  uncivilized,  and 
ask  it  if  it  has  not  heard— 

'  That  England  alone  was  the  clime 
"Where  the  blue  flag  of  hope  is  unfurled, 

And  floats  o'er  the  breezes  of  Time ; 
Where  Justice  and  Liberty  blend, 

And  fools  make  a  watchword  of  neither.' 

But  at  the  same  time,  take  care  not  to  add  the  poet's  original 
conclusion — 

'  You're  as  wise  as  most  others,  my  friend, 
For  I  never  heard  of  it  either  1 ' 

You  may  then  nearly  paraphrase  that  splendid  article  of  Ma- 
caulay's  upon  Milton,  in  the  '  Edinburgh.'  Few  will  denounce 
and  fewer  detect,  the  plagiary,  when  in  a  fine  peroration  you 
tell  them  that  the  late  Ministry  only  thought  of  ruling^  but  not 
of  righting^  the  people  ;  that  your  aim  is  to  reverse  the  rod,  to 
spell  the  charm  backward,  to  break  the  fetters  which  bound  a 
hoodwinked  people  to  the  Juggernaut  car  of  a  corrupt  govern- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  323 

ment.  Siicli  is,  and  ever  was  your  only  aim.  And  such  it 
ever  will  be,  though  an  error  in  judgment,  occasioned  by  a  too 
hot  zeal !  and  the  force  of  circumstances,  caused  you  at  one 
time  to  evince  those  principles,  and  fight  for  the  great  and  glo- 
rious cause  of  human  progress  under  another  banner  ; — for  that 
universal  cause,  and  for  that  only,  you  had  joined  the  Free-tra- 
ders, and  for  that  same  great  cause  you  now  left  them,  regard- 
less of  any  personal  odium  that  might  attach  to  yourself;  con- 
vinced, as  you  noiu  were,  that  that  party  would  never  forward 
this  mighty  end.  For  remember,  my  dear  fellow,  the  more  ex- 
clusively devoted  a  man  is  to  his  own  personal  interest,  or  the 
more  he  indulges  in  any  particular  routine  of  vice, — the  more 
studiously  must  he  affect  immolation  for  the  pubhc  weal,  and 
the  more  loudly  laud  the  purely  o^^posite  moral  code  to  his  own 
career.  After  this,  sum  up,  by  stating  that  the  English  are  the 
most  anti-mammon- worshipping,  practically-Christian,  highly- 
bred,  utterly-unselfish,  and  blandly-mannered  people  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.  You  need  not  stay  to  prove  it,  for  this  is  a  little 
account  they  will  never  dispute !  And  after  that,  you  may  go 
to  sleep,  for  the  game  is  in  your  own  hands." 

Mr.  Benaraby"  ceased,  not  from  want  of  words,  but  from 
want  of  breath.  And  his  companion  looked  at  him  with  a  gra- 
dually expanding  admiration  ! — for  to  him,  a  fine  development 
of  unprincipled  craft  and  two-edged  cunning  had  the  same 
charm  that  a  fine  anatomical  development  would  have  for  a 
medical  student ;  or  a  symmetrical  one,  for  a  sculptor. 

"  But  you  see,  my  dear  Benaraby,"  said  he,  still  hanging- 
back,  ^oz^r  sefaire  valoi?',  "one  looks  such  a  devil  of  a  fool  in 
the  "eyes  of  the  ivorld,  to  sell  oneself  for  nothing, — whereas  office 
at  once  accounts,  and  atones,  for  any  amount  of  political  apos- 
tacy." 

'"Nothing!''''  reiterated  the  new  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, interrupting  him :  "  and  do  you  call  it  nothing !  to 
unsuspectedly  pull  the  strings  of  a  whole  cabinet  of  ministerial 
Marionnetes  ? — to  see  your  name  figure  at  all  their  dinners,  at 


324  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

once  conspicuously  and  ornamentally,  like  an  acanthus  on  a  ca- 
pital ? — nothing !  to  wrest — mothy  honours  of  skeleton  supple- 
mentary initials  to  your  name  from  mouldy  universities  !  in  the 
wake  of  the  Premier ; — thus  becoming  to  him,  what  the  tail  is 
to  the  comet,  its  most  brilliant,  because  its  most  stare-at-able 
part  ? — and;  above  all,  do  you  call  it  nothing  !  to  escape  the  po- 
litical annihilation  of  even  being  six  months  among  the  outs — 
unpuffed !  unattacked !  unparagraphed !  untalked  of !  un- 
thought  of,  unevoked,  perchance,  by  a  solitary  reminiscence — 
plunged,  in  fact,  into  a  moral  Lethe,  which  it  takes  at  least  a 
ten  years'  tide  of  future  prosperity  and  popularity  to  resuscitate 
a  man  from  ?  And  as  to  your  not  having  office,  that  is  the 
very  pedestal  upon  which  you  are  to  be  placed,  in  the  highest 
niche  of  supposititious  integrity ;  and,  depend  upon  it,  you 
make  a  grand  mistake  in  giving  the  mass  credit  for  such  chemi- 
cal attributes,  as  to  imagine  that  they  ever  analyse  or  test  any 
thing ;  results  are  all  they  look  to ;  get  on  in  the  world,  and  no 
particle  of  the  said  world  ever  thinks  of  asking  how  you  have 
got  on.  Airive  at  an  eminence  of  any  sort,  good,  bad,  or  in- 
different, and  no  one  cares  to  enquire  whether  you  have  travel- 
led by  the  broad,  legitimate  high  road, — or  by  the  dirtiest  back 
lanes.  Another  fallacy  is,  that  men  who  are  mixed  up  with 
each  succeeding  government  7nust  of  necessity  be  so  clever  as  to 
render  their  services  indispensable  to  legislation,  whoever  the 
legislator  may  be ;  and,  cleverness,  in  the  present  day,  is  in  the 
mundane,  what  faith  is  in  the  Calvinistic  creed,  not  only  a  sine 
qua  7ion,  but  an  atonement  for  the  worst  actions  1  So,  have 
the  goodness  to  decide,  my  dear  fellow,  because  I  promised 
Blackiswhite  to  send  him  a  completed  list  of  our  forces,  that  he 
may  announce  it  officially  in  Monday's  "  Morning  Puff." 

This  time  the  clever  man  pulled  his  under  lip,  and  for  some 
seconds  remained  in  council  with  himself;  at  length  he  spoke, 
saying — 

"  Well,  my  dear  Benaraby,  I  believe  you  are"  right :  only 
may  I  consider  that  at  some  future  period,  say  a  year  or  two 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  325 

hence,  that  the  Redby  Ministry  stand  pledged  to  give  me  one 
of  those  ^'- palpable^  tangible  "  offices,  of  which  you  affect  to 
think  so  lightly, — with,  above  all,  a  tangible  salary  attached  to 
it?" 

"  Clearly,  my  dear  Ferrars,  clearly, — as  Coakington  would 
say,"  rejoined  his  friend,  filling  out  another  glass  of  claret  for 
himself,  as  he  added — crossing  his  legs,  and  holding  the  wine 
up  to  the  hght,  as  he  closed  his  right  eye — "  In  two  years,  it  is 
by  no  means  out  of  the  cards,  that  /  may  be  Premier  myself, 
and  then,  again  to  quote  your  words  at  the  Albany  that  morn- 
inof,  when 


'o' 


'  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before,' — 

command  anything  in  my  power  to  bestow !  A  poor,  thin, 
potation  claret,  after  all.  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had  Pitt's  capa- 
city (or  p)ort-{e)  \  it  would  be  invaluable  in  the  present  state  of 
Turkish  affairs." 

'  i^"  Ah  !  my  dear  fellow, "  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  rising 
and  putting  on  his  hat,  "  you  do  combine  as  many  opposite  ex- 
tremes as  most  men,  so  rest  satisfied  with  being  a  Fox  !  which 
I  think  will  answer  your  purpose  much  better.  And  now,  I'm 
going,  so  good  night;  but mmcZ, you  make  outtoBlackiswhite, 
that  I  resolutely  (mind,  that  is  the  word  and  no  other) — that  I 
resolutely  refused  to  take  office,  lest  the  motives  of  my  secession 
might  be  impugned ;  for  this  version  of  my  change  must  be  in 
print  with  the  announcement  of  it." 

"  And  so  you  did  ! "  rejoined  Benaraby,  making  a  note  of 
this /ac^  (!)  with  a  pencil  on  the  back  of  a  letter ;  "  for  no  man 
was  ever  known  to  accept what  he  could  not  get !  " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

And  with  this  final  laugh,  the  friends  shook  hands  and 
parted  ;  Mr.  Benaraby  sitting  up  to  write  two  or  three  notes. 


326  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

which,  as  they  were  not  to  be  sent  till  Monday,  he  took  infinite 
pleasure  in  dating  from  "  Downing  Street  ;  "  and  the  clever 
man,  as  he  drove  back  to  Albany,  resigning  himself  as  best  he 
could,  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  political  mission,  which  was,  to 

BE  MADE  USE  OF  BY  ALL  PARTIES,  AND  TRUSTED  BY  NONE  ! 


SECTION  XIII. 

"  God  hath  made  man  upright ;  but  they  have  sought  out  many  inventions.''— 
Bccles.  vii.  29. 

"  Who  bears  no  trace  of  passions'  evil  force  ? 
Who  shuns  thy  sting,  O  terrible  remorse? 

Who  would  not  cast 
Half  of  this  future  from  him,  but  to  win 
Wakeless  oblivion  for  the  wrong  and  sin 

Of  the  sealed  past?" 

J.  G.   WfiiUier. 

On  the  Tuesday  morning  after  Mr.  Benaraby's  supper  at  the 
Clarendon — to  his  "  trusty  and  well-beloved  friends  and  coun- 
sellors " — the  carriages  were  rolling  about  London  at  an  earlier 
hour  than  usual,  as  is  generally  the  case  on  the  advent  of  a  new 
Cabinet. 

"  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  M.  P.,  had  had  an  interview  with 
the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  at  his  official  residence  in 
Downing  Street,"  as  the  following  Wednesday's  Morning  Puff 
duly  announced,  for  the  information  of  the  great  and  little  vul- 
gar. It  did  not,  however,  record  how  heartily  they  had  laughed 
over  some  of  their  future  schemes,  which  were  never  exactly 
brought  before  the  Privy  Council,  or  how  many  devilled  kid- 
neys and  glasses  of  champagne  they  had  discussed  with  their 
respective  plans.  As  for  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  the 
right  honourable  gentleman's  ebon  ringlets  were  to  the  full  as  • 
luminous  (if  not  rather  more  so)  than  his  new  budget ;  and  no 
wonder,  for  had  they  not  just  been  "anointed  with  the  oil  of 


328  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

gladness  above  their  fellows  ?  " — and  although  before  the  first 
week  had  closed  upon  his  new-blown  honours,  there  appeared 
the  following  cutting  announcement  in  an  opposition  paper  (no 
doubt  inserted  by  some  insidious  bigot  of  the  L'ish  Brigade  )  : 

"  The  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  begs  to  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of  thirty  pieces  of  silvery 

The  right  honourable  gentleman  neither  "  went  out,"  at 
least  not  just  then — nor  hung  himself — from,  of  course,  sharing 
in  common  with  more  ordinary  mortals,  the  dislike  to  being 
kept  in  suspense. 

As  for  the  clever  man,  he  literally  appeared  to  have  a  sort 
of  univei*sal  new  nap;  which,  indeed,  is  for  the  most  part,  the 
miraculous  result  to  all  seedy  things  that  pass  through  the 
hands  of  the  Israelites  ;  though  it  is  generally  vice  versa  with 
regard  to  jDersons  ;  therefore,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  that  he  had 
been  especially  favoured  ;  and  this  renovating  princij^le  seemed 
to  have  extended  itself,  even  to  all  his  appendages.  The  very 
varnish  on  the  panels  of  his  cabriolet,  seemed  to  have  attained 
a  higher  polish  ;  the  harness,  ibid.  Even  Esmeralda,  the 
thorough-bred  chesnut  mare,  appeared  to  step  higher  than  usu- 
al, and  to  prick  up  her  ears,  and  toss  with  dilated  nostrils  her 
small,  finely  turned  head,  in  order  to  sniff  the  diplomatic  air,  as 
she  was  driven  up  and  down  that  solemn,  silent,  secretarian 
street.  While  Tim — had  his  master  been  Premier,  or  even 
had  he  himself  jockeyed  fate  into  arriving  at  that  winning-post 
— could  not  have  lolled  back  in  the  cab  with  a  more  Sybarite 
Sardanapalus  air,  or  nodded  to  his  peers  as  he  occasionally 
passed  them,  after  a  more  King  Cambyses  fashion.  At  length 
pulling  up  in  a  parallel  position  with  Mr.  Benaraby's  brougham, 
and  addressinof  the  brown  man  on  the  box  of  that  brown 
vehicle,  he  said — assuming  a  pleasant  off-hand  parhamentary 
tone  of  persiflage — 

"  Veil,  Mr.  Jenkins,  I  never  thought  as  you  an'  I,  should 
be  a  sittin  hon  the  same  side." 

"  Lawr  !  Pollytics  is  all  chance,  like  racing,  you  never  can 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  329 

tell  for  sartin  aforehand,  who'll  win,  or  who'll  bolt,"  replied  Mr. 
Jenkins,  sententioiisly — passing  the  back  of  the  white  doeskin 
glove  on  his  right  hand  under  his  nose,  in  a  way  that  it  certain- 
ly never  could  have  anticipated,  and  which  fully  bore  out  his 
doctrine  of  chances. 

"Har,"  said  Tim,  meditatively,  passing  the  back  of  /«"."? 
right  hand  also  under  his  nose,  and  winking  his  corresponding 
optic,  "  I  spose  has  yoiir  gent  'ill  make  a  good  thing  hon  it, 
letting  hof  the  Minories  know  hin  time  vhich  vay  has  the 
funs  will  see-sawr  ?  " 

"  Haint  you  then  aware,"  responded  the  official  Jehu,  shak- 
ing his  head  Avith  solemn  deprecation,  "has  the  cahnet  ministers 
takes  a  hoath  never  to  reiveal  nothink  ? " 

"  Lawr  !  bless  your  wirgin  hinnocence  !  "  subjoined  the 
clever  man's  groom,  "  What's  a  hoath  to  Benharaby  ? "  and 
he  accompanied  the  query  by  a  noise  very  like  the  decanting 
of  a  bottle  of  wine,  achieved  by  the  sudden  gymnastics  of  his 
tongue  against  the  roof  of  his  mouth  ;  then  adding,  "But  you 
said  jist  now  as  pollytics  was  all  chance,  and  little  matter  too," 
and  Tim  winked  his  right  eye,  and  touching  with  the  extreme 
lash  of  the  whip,  the  tip  of  Esmeralda's  off  ear,  continued — 
"  Very  little  hodds  indeed,  so  long  has  one  keeps  the  whip, 
hand  hany  petickler  liveries  attached  to  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Hexchequer  !   Hor  does  he  still  mean  to  do  you  brown — hey  ? " 

"  Noo  state  liveries  for  court  of  course,  but  bother  days 
same  as  usual " 

"Pray,  can  you  tell  me — for  all  this  here  sort  of  tackle  is 
new  to  me,  as  we^ve  never  been  in  hoffice  afore, — is  the  wages 
riz  ? — I  mean  of  we  servants — ven  they  takes  hoffice;  cause  I 
can't  see  no  use  in  deserting  of  one's  party,  and  all  that  'ere 
sort  of  thing,  hif  they  haint." 

"Lawr  bless  you,  no!  the  higher  they  gets,  the  more  they 
bruises  the  boats!  hand  squeezes  the  most  hout  of  hevery  one. 
I  read  in  the  noospaper  the  other  day  something  about  a  wessel 
as  was  buildin  for  the  Queen,  vere  it  said  as  Her  Majesty  hall- 


330  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ways  vent  lion  the  screw  principle ;  so,  in  course  the  qiiahty 
thinks  it  necessary  to  do  the  same." 

"  ITa !  then  it's  lucky,  as  there's  a  screw  loose  among  so 
many  on  em !  but  of  one  thing,  I'll  take  my  Davey." 

What  the  intersting  fact  was  that  he  was  about  to  vouch 
for,  did  not  however  transpire,  as  his  master  at  that  moment 
appeared  on  the  threshold  ;  so  that,  like  many  greater  men, 
just  as  he  was  about  to  make  sure  of  anything,  he  was  turned 
out  of  his  place. 

Upon  assuming  the  reins — not,  alas  !  of  government,  but  x)f 
his  horse — Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  determined  to  strike  while  the 
iron  was  hot,  and  drive  to  Upper  Brook  Street,  to  his  aunt  Lady 
Mammonton's,  as  he  was  much  in  want  of  a  couple  of  hundred 
pounds  ;  and  as  that  Lady  was  a  great  Conservative,  and  a  vast 
admirer  of  Lord  Redby's,  her  nephew  resolved  upon  attributing 
his  recent  rat,  to  having  originated  entirely  from  a  deference  to 
her  superior  judgment ;  and  a  wish  for  the  future  to  adapt  his 
political  views  to  hers  :  and  although  he  had  gained  nothing 
from  the  Protectionists  by  the  change,  and  might  lose  much  in 
public  opinion ;  yet  having  her  approval,  and  that  of  his  con- 
science (?)  he  wanted  nothing  else.  Such  was  the  "  abstract 
and  brief  chronicle  "  of  his  plan  of  attack  for  that  morning  ;  but 
having  business  with  a  publisher  in  Great  Marlborough  Street, 
he  decided  upon  calling  upon  the  latter  first. 

Upon  arriving  tliere,  a  few  doors  beyond  the  publishers,  at 
the  police-office,  he  saw  an  immense  crowd  ;  and  presently  mak- 
ing her  way  through  this  crowd,  a  small  female  figure,  muffled 
in  a  thick  black  veil,  which,  just  then,  to  avoid  suff'ocation,  she 
raised,  and  apparently  began  asking  some  of  the  people  to  let 
her  pass — could  it  be  ! — 

"  No,-^yes, — it  is — Fraulein  Gothekant.  What  the  d — 1 
can  she  be  doing  here  ?  "  thought  the  clever  man — it  was  this 
very  evening  she  was  to  go  to  Mrs.  Moncton's ;  at  all  events, 
she  was  the  very  last  person  he  cared  to  meet.  So,  cutting  across 
into  the  opposite  street,  he  pulled  up  and  got  out,  telling  Tim  to 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  331 

wait  there  with  the  cab,  and  slouching  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and 
holding  his  handkerchief  before  his  mouth,  he  kept  watching 
Adelaida,  who  for  a  second  was  again  hidden  by  the  crowd. 
"  Perhaps,"  said  he,  "  after  all,  it  may  not  be  her,  but  only  her 
Doi^pelganger^ — no  ;  it  was  herself,  in  flesh  and  blood — at  least 
in  as  much  flesh  and  blood  as  she  ever  possessed ;  of  this  he 
became  certain,  as  she  finally  emerged  from  the  crowd,  and  with 
a  hurried  step  walked  on  till  she  reached  the  publishers,  whither 
she  entered. 

"  What  the  h — 11 !  can  she  be  doing  there  ?  Surely  she  ne- 
ver can  be  thinking  of  publishing  on  her  own  account  ?  But  if 
she  is,  I'll  soon  put  a  stop  to  that,"  soliloquized  the  clever  man, 
who,  large  as  the  world  ie,  never  could  be  convinced  that  there 
was  sufficient  room  in  it  for  any  one  besides  himself.  But  as  he 
was  determined  to  find  out  what  her  errand  there  was,  and 
could  not  stay  in  the  street  during  the  time  that  must  elapse 
before  her  departure — being  too  well  aware  of  the  carte  du  imys 
among  the  magnates  of  the  publishing  world,  not  to  know  that 
a  httle  ugly  w^oman,  going  on  foot,  and  dressed  in  shabby  black, 
with  an  unpronounceable  foreign  name,  would  be  detained  at 
least  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  before  she  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing an  audience — he  resolved  upon  the  mezzo-termine  of  turn- 
ing into  the  police-office. 

"  For  who  knows  ?  "  concluded  he, — "  one  may  generally 
pick  up  a  chapter  for  a  book  in  those  sort  of  places."  And  he 
was  right ;  for  the  chapters  of  that  wonderfully  varied  and  curi- 
ously-dovetailed mosaic  human  life,  are  not  merely  the  best, 
but  the  only  good  ones  for  a  book  which  assumes  to  represent 
it. 

The  court  was  densely  crowded  with  the  belongings  and 
associates  of  one  or  two  prisoners  within,  and  a  worshipful  sprink- 

*  The  Germans  have  a  superstition  that  some  persons  keep  a  shadow 
of  then^elves,  which  they  call  a  Doppelganger.  For  fuller  particulars 
on  this  subject,  see  Mrs.  Crowe's  charming  work,  "  The  Night  Side  of 
Nature." 


332  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ling  of  the  swell -mob  without.  Two  night  cases  had  just  been 
dismissed — one,  that  of  a  woman  who  had  broken  a  large  pane 
of  plate-glass  purposely  in  a  shop  window,  and  who,  upon  hear- 
ing her  sentence  of  one  month's  imprisonment  at  Coldbath 
Fields,  said  to  the  Magistrate — 

"  Thank  your  worship — there's  bread  and  shelter  for  one 
month  at  all  events." 

The  other  was  that  of  "  a  gent,"  for  having  been  "  drunk 
and  disorderly,"  to  the  extent  of  eclipsing  a  policeman's  eye,  and 
insulting  '■'■a  female  ;"  but  he  paid  his  five  shilhngs  like  a  man  !" 
and  departed  to  go  and  do  likewise,  on  the  first  convenient  op- 
poi'tunity. 

The  next  case  was  that  of  "  a  smalhboy,"  at  the  suit  of  a  shoe- 
maker, in  Oxford  Street,  for  having  attempted  on  the  previous 
evening  to  pass  base  coin,  by  palming  oft'  upon  him  a  bad  sove- 
reign, in  payment  of  a  pair  of  boots,  value  eight  shillings. 

"  Please  your  vorship,"  said  Mr.  Rogers  the  shoemaker,  "  I 
was  stannin  at  my  shop-door,  betwixt  six  and  seven  yesterday 
evinin,  when  this  here  chap  accompanied  by  that  ere  lame  fel- 
ler, comes  in  as  bold  as  brass,  and  says,  says  he,  '  I  wants  a  pair 
of  high-lows,  the  strongest  and  bes  you've  got.'  I  aint  got  none, 
says  I,  but  what  is  the  best,  for  I  makes  em  all  myself,  and  don't 
never  buy  none  of  your  ready-made,  wholesale  rubbish.  Vith 
that  they  valks  in,  and  the  little  un  tries  on  a  matter  of  ten  or 
twelve  pair  of  highlows,  afore  he  could  suit  his  self.  At  length, 
when  he  had  got  a  pair  to  his  mind,  he  pulls  out  this  here  bad 
sovereign,  j^lease  yer  vorship,  and  hands  it  over  to  me  in  pay- 
ment of  the  boots ;  vith  that,  I  rings  it  on  the  counter,  and  of 
course  I  see  directly  it  was  a  bad  un.  '  How's  this,  my  man,' 
says  I,  very  civil  and  quiet-like  ;  for  I  still  thought  p'raps  as  one 
or  tother  on  'em  might  have  other  money  about  'em  as  warnt 
bad  to  pay  for  the  boots.  '  How's  this,'  says  I,  '  here's  a  bad 
sovereign,  and  if  you  knows  who  give  it  you,  I  advise  you  to  give 
it  em  back,  and  if  you  don't,  to  chuck  it  into  the  fire,  or  else  it 
may  be  g».ttin  on  you  into  trouble.'      Upon  this,  the  little  chap 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  333 

says  nothink,  but  turns  and  looks  up  in  the  lame  man's  face  ; 
Avbo,  takin  the  sovereign  out  of  my  hand,  and  lookin  at  it  on 
both  sides,  says  as  cool  as  a  kewcumber,  'Bad,  is  it?  Well,  that 
aint  surprisin,  for  no  one  ever  knowd  any  good  to  come  from 
where  that  come  from.'  '  Mayhap,  then,'  says  I,  '  you  knows 
some  gang  of  coinei-s  ? '  '  No,  I  don't,'  says  he,  '  but  I  knows 
summut  worse  nor  they ;  and  then,  please  your  vorship,  he  tells 
me  a  cock-and-bull  story  about  a  gent  at  the  Hopra  ouse  door, 
last  Saturday,  a  givin  on  this  here  sovereign  in  charity  to  that 
'ere  chap — a  likely  thing  truly  !  So  arter  that,  findin  as  neither 
on  'em  could  pay  me,  I  was  herritated  at  'avin  'ad  my  time  taken 
hup  for  nothink  in  this  way,  so  I  just  called  a  pleese-man,  and 
give  the  little  chap  in  charge." 

Mr.  Rogers  having  ceased,  the  magistrate  asked  the  boy 
what  he  had  to  say  in  his  defence  ;  but  poor  Union  Jack  was 
sobbing  so  violently  that  not  one  word  could  he  utter. 

"  Please  yer  vorshup,"  said  Joe  Roberts,  advancing  a  step 
or  two,  and  pulling  the  forelock  of  his  hair,  as  he  bowed  to  the 
magistrate,  at  the  same  time  kicking  back  his  right  foot,  and 
pointing  to  Rogers  with  his  left  thumb  over  his  left  shoulder — 
"  Please  your  vorshup,  vot  this  good  man  says  is  quite  true 
— aint  got  nothink  to  say  agin  it ;  but  vot  I  says  is  true  halso, 
and  hof  it  I  be  quite  ready  to  take  my  hoath  ;  and  my  charac- 
ter will  bear  inwestigation,  as  your  vorshup  can  find  hout  by  ax- 
ing about  me  (Joe  Roberts  my  name  is)  at  the  Tabard,  at 
Southwark,  where,  as  man  and  boy,  I've  been  hostler  for  the 
last  fifteen  year.  And  it  vos  last  Saturday  night,  that  Jack  and 
I  was  comin  from  Panton  Street  down  the  Haymarket,  ven  the 
quality  was  a  comin  hout  of  the  Hoprer  'ouse  ;  and  Jack  says  to 
me,  says  he,  '  I  vish  as  I  had  a  pair  of  new  boots  to  go  to  my 
new  sitivation  vith — '  for,  please  yer  vorship,  he'd  ad  the  luck 
to  get  a  sitivation  that  wery  mornin.  '  Veil,  Jack,'  says  I,  a  pin- 
tin  to  a  pale,  lean  gemmen  as  was  a  stannin  like  a  monnyment 
hunder  a  lamp,  you  sees  that  ere  gent,'  says  I,  '  vith  a  face 
summut  the  colour  of  a  Bath-cheese,  and  a  purplish  sort  of  large 


334  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tnrnip-radisli  like  in  the  middle  on  it,  liooked  downwards  for  a 
nose.  Veil,  spose  as  you  goes  and  axes  him  to  give  you  sum- 
mut  towards  gettin  on  you  a  pair  of  boots.  Veil,  avay  starts 
Jack,  like  the  'lectric  tellygraft ;  and  to  his  surprise,  but  a  deal 
more  to  mine  !  (till  I  found  as  it  was  a  bad  un),  this  here  fine 
gemmen  give  him  a  sovereign.  And  now,"  concluded  Joe, 
tightly  folding  his  arms,  and  knitting  his  heavy  brows  into  a 
dark  frown,  till  the  expression  of  his  face  became  something  be- 
tween that  of  a  Scylla,  and  a  savage,  "  if  so  be  as  yer  vurshup 
vishes  to  know  vy  I  directed  Jack  to  go  and  ax  that  particklar 
gent  for  money  to  buy  shoes ;  it  vas  that  I  thought  as  a  solita- 
ry pair  of  shoes,  vas  the  least  a  father  could  give  his  son  !  for 
that  fine  gemman,  great  a  man  as  he  may  be,  is  nevertheless 
this  here  poor,  ragged,  beggar-boy's  father.  It  is  now  eleven 
year  ago  since  he  first  ruined  his  mother,  and  then  left  her  to 
die  of  want  in  the  union — and  that  fine  gemman's  name  is  Mr. 
Henry  P ." 

Here  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  by  a  painful  and  extreme  eftbrt, 
kept  in  his  breath,  as  he  slouched  his  hat  still  more  over  his 
eyes,  and  held  his  handkerchief  quite  over  the  rest  of  his  face, 
eclipsing  himself  still  more  among  the  crowd.  While  "  the 
worthy  magistrate,"  to  quote  the  words  of  the  Morning  Puft'  in 
its  next  day's  report  of  the  case,  "  wry  'projperly  "  here  inter- 
fered, saying, — "  Hold,  my  good  man,  I  cannot  allow  any  gen- 
tleman, holding  a  position  in  society,  to  have  his  character  as- 
persed through  the  posthumous  slanders  of  an  abandoned  wo- 
man." * 

"  Abandoned  woman  ! "  thundered  Joe,  clenching  his  fist, 
and  shaking  it  impotently,  yet  gigantically,  not  so  much  even 
at  the  utterer  of  this  opprobrious  epithet  individuall}',  as  at  the 
whole  world  collectively,  whom  he  felt  he  should  like  to  have 
felled  with  one  blow,  and  trampled  on  afterwards.  "  Abandon- 
ed woman !  yes,  abandoned  by  that  villain !  who  is  ten  times 
more  abandoned  nor  ever  she  was.     But  only  wait  till  he  gets 

*  Fact. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  335 

where  lie  sent  her  afore  her  time,  poor  creetur !  and  then  may- 
hap he'll  see  which  is  the  most  abandoned  of  the  two." 

But  poor  Joe  was  again  silenced — "the  worthy  magistrate" 
being  apparently  of  that  clerical  gentleman's  opinion,  who 
thought  that  the  truth  ought  not  to  be  spoken  at  all  times ;  and 
of  course,  in  a  court  of  justice  (?)  it  is  particularly  out  of  place! 

The  magistrate  said  he  was  very  sorry,  as  the  boy  was  so 
young  and  did  not  appear  to  be  otherwise  vicious  ;  but  that,  as 
neither  he,  nor  Joe  had  attempted  to  deny  the  charge  of  his  pass- 
ing a  bad  sovereign,  and  there  was  no  counter-evidence  to  prove 
that  he  was  really  not  aware  that  it  was  such,  he  had  nothing 
for  it  but  to  commit  the  boy  for  one  month's  hard  labour  at  the 
treadmill. 

"  Oh  !  sir,  sir !  for  Heaven's  sake ! — for  mercy's  sake  !— don't 
send  me  to  prison.  I  am  innocent;  indeed,  indeed,  I  am,'' 
sobbed  poor  Union  Jack,  in  an  agony  of  grief  and  despaii-,  fall- 
ing upon  his  knees  before  the  magistrate  ;  "  I  belong  to  nobody  ; 
I  have  no  one  in  the  world  but  poor  Joe  and  Boxer ;  I  have 

neither  mother  nor  father "     And  here  the  boy's  utterance 

was  literally  choked.  But  he  was  mistaken  in  his  latter  asser- 
tion, for  his  father,  unperceived,  was  at  that  moment  contem- 
plating him,  and  minutely  scrutinizing  every  feature  and  ex- 
pression of  his  face,  not  so  ranch  en  amateur  as  en  connoisseur, 
for  he  was  artistically  and  scientifically  studying  every  quiver 
of  agony  in  that  young  despair!  and  microscopically  watching 
the  dark  progress  of  the  blight  that  was  stealing  over  that  hu- 
man blossom  of  which  he  was  the  parent  stem. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  "  that  dear  Ferrars' "  description  was 
so  graphic!  and  intense.  What  a  pity  that  the  misses  and 
matrons  who  constituted  his  admirers,  could  not  be  there  to  see 
the  Spartan  school  in  which  he  pursued  his  studies,  and  mas- 
tered his  art;  and  if  they  had,  what  then?  Mr.  Thackeray 
makes  Mr.  Yellowplush  utter  the  following  truth  : — "  If  Satan 
himself  were  a  lord,  I  do  believe  there's  many  virtuous  English 
mothers  would  be  a'lad  to  have  him  for  a  son-in-law."     And  he 


336  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

might  have  added — or  had  he  the  prospect  of  money,  or  was 
known  as  a  personnar/e  in  the  world,  they  would  be  equally 
eager  for  the  honour  of  the  alliance  under  a  similar  identity. 
But  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  a  double  chance  of  success  in 
English  society;  for,  to  quote  again  from  Mr.  Thackeray  *  and 
the  Yellowplush  correspondence,  which  I  have  no  doubt  now 
that  gentleman  would  rather  people  would  not  do,  seeing  that 
in  that  abstruse  game  of  speculation,  called  life,  the  shuffling 
and  cutting  of  the  cards  have  caused  him  to  "  wear  his  rue  with 
a  difference  ;"  which,  however,  as  we  were  about  to  observe,  did 
not  prevent  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  from  carrying  out,  in  his  in- 
tercourse with  the  world,  another  of  Mr.  Yellowplush's  most 
sagacious  and  incontrovertible  axioms — I  allude  to  that  one, 
wherein  he  makes  the  followino;  remark  : — 

"  I've  always  found  through  life,  that  if  you  wish  to  be  re- 
spected by  English  people,  you  must  be  insolent  to  them." 

Thoroughly  imbued  with  this  truth,  the  clever  man  had 
found  its  practical  adaptation  to  his  daily  use  work  like  a  charm 
in  pioneering  all  before  him ;  so  that,  had  he  been  detected  in 
the  act  of  picking  a  pocket  or  any  other  species  of  blackguardism, 
he  would  have  vapoured  amain  so  sonorously  and  loftily  about 
HIS  HONOUR!  being  called  in  question,  that  not  only  would 
he  have  set  the  whole  of  the  metropolitan  police  force  to  flight 
by  the  din,  but  have  proceeded  on  his  way  free  and  unfettered, 
in  a  sort  of  impromptu  triumph  !  amid  the  brazen  flourishes  of 
his  own  trumpets. 

Finding  that  all  his  appeals  were  in  vain,  upon  the  police- 

*  The  Author  liopes  Mr.  Thackeray  will  pardon  the  liberty  he  has 
taken  witli  his  name ;  but  he  has  done  so,  from  the  fact  of  his  (Mr. 
Thackeray)  being  indisputably  the  Jirst  of  English  living  noyehsts,  of 
which  he  must,  by  this,  be  himself  pleasingly  aware ;  for  Juvenal  has 
anticipated  our  times — and  how  truly — 

" didicit  jam  dives  avarus  disertos, 

Tantum  admirari,  tantum  laudare 
Ut  pueii  Junonis  avem  ! " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  337 

man  approachinc;  and  laying  his  Land  on  his  shoulder  to  con- 
duct him  to  the  prison-van  that  was  at  the  door,  poor  Union 
Jack  sank  down  on  the  floor,  and  clung  to  it  convulsively  with 
his  nails,  as  if  in  it  was  his  last  hope.  Is  it  not  the  last  hope  of 
all  wretches  who  have  no  other  to  turn  to — their  mother  earth ! 
and  even  she  is  a  stepmother  to  some,  keeping  her  sheltering 
graves  for  her  favourites. 

"  Come,  come.  Jack,"  said  Joe  Roberts,  wiping  the  big  tears 
from  his  eyes  brusquely  with  the  back  of  his  sleeve,  "  be  a  man ; 
your  father's  son  ain't  no  call  to  be  ashamed,  whatever  that 
son's  father  have.  It's  a  b — d !  shame,  I  know ;  but  then  it 
wouldn't  be  all  on  a  piece  if  it  warn't.  Up,  my  boy,  never  give 
him  that  satisfaction  ;  that's  what  he  wants  is  to  make  you  eat 
the  dust,  seeing  as  he  don't  give  you  nothink  else  to  eat.  Come, 
cheer  up ;  a  month's  but  a  month,  even  in  a  prison,  and  I  and 
Boxer  '11  come  and  see  you.  There,  dry  your  eyes ;  there's  a 
man,  and  look  em  all  straight  in  the  face ;  for,  thank  God  as 
you  can  do  so,  where  there  aint  no  sin  there  aint  no  shame ; 
and  as  for,sorrer,  vy  it  haint  never  got  no  roots  to  signify  unless 
it's  planted  in  evil.  There,  there's  a  man,"  continued  he,  as  poor 
Jack  at  this  exordium  of  his  only  friend  had  regained  his  feet, 
and  w^as  burying  his  face  on  Joe's  shoulder.  "  Now  look  here, 
Jack,  if  it  war  Death  himself  as  you  had  to  face,  you've  no  cause 
to  hang  back ;  on  the  contrairy^  you  might  cry  out,  '  all  right, 
old  fellar,  glad  to  see  you ;  there's  only  me  a-going  by  a  ftist- 
class ;  no  heavy  baggage,  in  the  shape  of  a  bad  conscience,  to 
go  by  your  luggage  train ;  so  here  goes !  and  the  sooner  we're 
oflf  the  better.'  That's  the  way  to  take  things,  my  boy,  and 
never  go  for  to  cry  like  a  babby  'pon  count  of  the  willainy  of 
hothers,  or  you'll  have  enough  to  do,  I  promise  you.  You 
should  leave  tears  for  the  women,  poor  creatures ;  they's  plenty 
o'  use  for  em,  and  could  never  get  along  without  em ;  they's 
tea,  and  sugar  to  them,  they  is.  See  here,  you've  often  a-vished 
for  my  big  knife,  and  I  couldn't  spare  it ;  but  I'll  give  it  you 
now  for  a  keepsake,"  said  Joe,  pulling  a  curious  specimen  of 
15 


388  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

cutlery  out  of  Lis  pocket,  in  shape  and  size  mucli  resembling  a 
small  pistol,  containing  four  difterent  blades,  a  cork-screw,  and 
a  button-hook.  At  sight  of  this  treasure,  poor  Jack's  eyes  ac- 
tually sparkled  through  his  tears,  so  blandly,  in  hfe's  young 
years,  do  pain  and  pleasure  blend. 

Thus  bribed,  Jack,  flanked  by  his  friend  Joe,  at  length  con- 
sented to  accompany  the  policeman.  As  they  made  their  way 
through  the  crowd,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  slunk  behind  a  sort 
of  wooden  pillar,  or  shaft,  which,  with  an  opposite  pendant,  di- 
vided the  oflSce,  as  it  were,  into  two  compartments.  It  was 
lucky  that  he  had  taken  this  precaution,  or  Joe  Roberts,  in  his 
then  frame  of  mind,  might  have  prematurely  ended  his  brilliant 
career,  and  the  gibbet  have  had  another  victim.  As  the  trio 
passed  out,  Union  Jack  in  the  centre,  between  his  friend  and 
the  policeman,  the  Other's  eye  chanced  to  look  down,  and,  out 
of  one  of  the  miserably  torn  shoes  which  the  bad  sovereign  had 
failed  to  replace,  and  for  trying  to  pass  which  he  was  now  being 
conducted  to  condign  punishment,  the  clever  man  perceived  a 
poor  Httle,  thin,  cold,  naked  foot  protruding.  Verily  !  the  com- 
l^licated  chords  of  that  mysterious  instrument,  the  human  heart, 
are  a  dumb  mystery  to  all  save  their  Creator.  He  alone  can 
either  attune  them  to  harmony  collectively,  or  awaken  one 
singly,  and  often  where  it  may  have  remained  mute  to  the 
strongest  appeal,  a  passing  breath  can  cause  it  to  thrill  into  a 
responsive  echo ;  and  now,  at  sight  of  this  small  physical  ill,  tbe 
man  who  had  a  few  minutes  before  minutely  studied,  in  order  to 
scientifically  analyse  the  moral  agony  of  this  poor  human  scape- 
goat ;  the  father  who  had  coolly  contemplated  the  wreck  of  his 
own  child,  could  not  behold  this  small  fragment  of  that  wreck 
without,  for  the  first  time,  feeling  a  sharp,  though  momentary, 
pain  dart  through  his  heart,  like  the  fang  of  remorse.  With 
most  men,  there  is  a  strong  sympathy  between  their  hearts  and 
their  pockets ;  but  with  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  this  sympathy 
was  even  more  developed  than  in  others.  So,  almost  mechani- 
cally, he  put  his  hand  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  drawing 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  339 

forth  a  sovereign,  dropped  it  into  Jack's  ragged  cap,  tliat  lie 
was  carrying  between  both  his  hands,  as  he  passed ;  and  this 
time  the  sovereign  was  not  a  had  one.  But  poor  Jack  had  now 
acquired  a  wholesome  dread  of  sovereigns  that  dropped  in  in 
this  easy,  gentlemanlike  manner ;  so,  taking  it  out  of  his  cap 
and  giving  it  to  Joe,  he  said — 

"  I  won't  have  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  perhaps  they'll  say  I 
stole  that  next." 

"  No,  no,  boy,"  interposed  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  from  be- 
hind his  hiding-place,  somewhat  disguising  his  voice,  and  also 
muffling  it  in  his  handkerchief,  "  it  is  Mr.  Smith  who  gives  you 
that  sovereign,  to  buy  shoes  with,  instead  of  putting  it  into  the 
poor-box." 

"  Much  obleeged  to  Mr.  Smith,  I'm  sure,"  said  Joe,  looking 
round  in  all  directions  for  that  benevolent  individual,  as  he 
gave  the  money  back  to  Jack.  "  I  wonder  which  Mr.  Smith  it 
is,  cause  there  be  such  a  crop  on  em  ;  I  only  wish  as  oats  was 
as  plenty ! " 

"  Oh  !  I  dare  say,"  said  a  reporter  who  was  standing  by, 
"he's  one  of  those  ^Paters  Familias''  who  write  to  the  Times 
whenever  the  Thames  overflows,  or  that  there  is  an  unusually 
thick  fog,  or  any  other  natural  phenomenon,  which  of  course 
the  Times  is  expected  to  attend  to  and  set  to  i-ights,  as  I  have 
no  doubt  all  the  Smiths  are  fathers  of  families ;  for  that  was 
what  they  were  originally  invented  for." 

Having  at  length  reached  the  door,  at  sight  of  the 
prison-van  poor  Jack  again  went  off  into  a  fearful  paroxysm  of 
tears. 

"  Jack,  Jack  ! "  remonstrated  Joe  Roberts,  who  was  almost 
in  as  bad  a  state  as  himself,  "•  never  come  for  to  go  on  a  breakin 
my  heart  in  this  fashion.  Cheer  up !  boy,  it  aint  no  fault  of 
yourn  ;  so  as  I  said  afore,  there  aint  nothink  to  be  ashamed  on. 
Look  here,  you're  only  a  goin  for  a  ride  in  your  father's  coach; 
for  sich  a  great  man  as  he  be,  I  s'pose  as  they'll  end  by  making 
a  Lord  on  him,  and  I  hope  as  he'll  be  called  Lord  Gallows,  for 


S40  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

that  would  be  the  fittlngest  title  for  him.  Here's  his  coronate 
all  ready,"  added  he,  pointing  to  the  royal  crown  and  initials  on 
the  van,  "  and  V.  R.,  vich  stands  for  wery  respectable  !  and  as 
for  a  little  hextree  hexercise  at  the  tread-mill,  vy,  it  aint  aif  sich 
a  bad  gettin  up-stairs,  as  my  settin  of  you  on,  a  Saturday  night, 
to  ax  charity  of  them  as  never  had  none,  and  don't  know  what  it 
means ;  a  reglar  ass  I  must  have  been  to  iver  ave  thort  of  sich 
a  thing;  but  you.  Jack,  as  ave  been  brought  hup  among  osses, 
you  orght  to  know  ow  to  'have  like  a  man,  and  set  me  an 
egzample  ;  so  don't  keep  turning  on  the  water,"  continued  he, 
hfting  Jack  tenderly  into  the  van,  "  cause  vy,  it's  honly  a  waistin 
hon  a  helement  as  is  wery  precious  ven  it's  wanted,  but  wery 
onpleasant  ven  it's  not :  and  you  take  care  of  that  ere  sovereign ; 
it  will  buy  you  more  bread  and  cheese  than  you'll  be  hable  to 
heat  in  a  month,  and  you've  got  my  knife  to  cut  it  with,  and 
mind  as  you  don't  let  it  get  rusty  for  want  of  use,  that's  all ;  and 
as  for  new  boots,  don't  you  trouble  about  they,  father  shall  make 
you  a  pair  o'  right  good  uns  agin  you  comes  back ;  and  next 
Sunday,  as  soon  as  the  clock  strikes  five  in  the  arternoon,  you 
may  look  out  for  Boxer  and  me  ;  but  weigh  !  steady,  I'd  nearly 
forgot — don't  you  go  for  to  change  that  ere  sovereign  afore  you 
absolutely  wants  it ;  this  'ill  keep  the  devil  hout  of  your  pocket 
(hif  he  couldn't  be  kep  hout  of  your  pedigree)  till  Boxer  and  I 
comes  to  see  you  on  Sunday ; "  and  so  saying,  Joe  placed  in 
Union  Jack's  hand  a  shilling  and  a  miscellany  of  halfpence  : 
and  the  van,  having  now  its  compliment  of  felons,  the  door  was 
locked,  and  it  drove  off  amid  a  fresh  burst  of  grief  from  poor 
Jack,  and  "  curses — not  loud,  but  deep  " — ^from  Joe  Roberts, 
who,  slouching  his  cap  over  his  eyes,  pursued  his  way  back  to 
the  Tabard,  feeling,  as  he  himself  afterwards  described  it  to  his 
mother,  galled,  blind,  and  spavined,  all  at  once. 

The  clever  man  had  watched  the  freighting  of  the  prison- 
van,  from  behind  the  door  of  the  police-ofiice,  with  a  slight 
tightness  round  the  region  where  the  heart  ought  to  be,  and 
when   the   driver   had   sonorously  slammed  to  the  door,  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  341 

locked  it,  something  like  a  momentary  sliarp  pain  echoed 
through  the  aforesaid  region  ;  but  no  sooner  had  it  driven  off 
and  was  quite  out  of  sight,  and  Joe  Roberts  also,  than,  like 
waters  meeting  and  closing  over  a  corse  which  they  had  just 
engulphed,  all  was  calm  and  serene  on  the  surface,  as  if  no 
blot  had  ever  been  made  out  of,  or  on  creation  ;  for  conscience 
is  a  delicate  plant — indigenous  to  man's  primeval  Eden — which 
requires  a  good  soil  to  take  root  in,  and  a  constant  irrigation  of 
heavenly  dew,  to  prevent  its  dwindling  down  into  a  mere  stray 
rank  weed,  which  cumbers,  but  cannot  chasten.  Therefore,  as 
soon  as  the  locomotive  prison  had  turned  the  corner  at  the  top 
of  the  street,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  drew  a  long  breath,  ad- 
justed his  hat,  caressed  his  whiskers,  and  looked  to  the  buttons 
of  his  gloves,  preparatory  to  again  sallying  forth ;  but  as  Tim 
had  turned  the  cabriolet  so  as  to  command  a  full  view  of  Marl- 
borough-street,  his  master  took  the  precaution  of  crossing  over 
to  ask  him  if  he  had  seen  any  one  come  out  of  the  pubhsher's 
while  he  had  been  in  the  police  office  ?  "  Like  master  like 
man,"  has  as  much  truth  in  it  as  most  other  proverbs ;  conse- 
quently Tim,  in  the  "  select  circles  "  which  he  frequented,  was 
considered  "  somewhat  of  a  literary  cove,"  from  the  fact  of  his 
seldom  being  without  a  novel,  a  newspaper,  or  the  Racing  Cal- 
endar in  his  pocket,  wherewith  to  while  away  the  many  solitary 
hours  he  had  to  be  "  in  waiting."  On  the  present  occasion  he 
had  nearly  spelt  through  the  Times,  more  especially  the  most 
interesting  and  important  portion  of  it,  namely,  the  column  de- 
voted to  handing  down  to  posterity  the  grooms  who,  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  have  wanted  places,  and  the  places  which 
have  wanted  grooms,  as  well  as  the  housemaids  who  have 
wanted  footmen.  Being  now  well  up  in  both  these  historical 
epochs,  he  had  just  turned  to  the  trade  report,  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  ascertaining  that  "  cotton  was  quiet ;  rice  rather 
brisk ;  "  and  that  "  calves  had  walked  off  after  the  last  quota- 
tion ;  "  which  latter  announcement  he,  no  doubt,  thought  had 
reference  to  the  numerous  disappointed  Litterateurs  emerging 


342  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

from  the  divers  publishers  in  the  highly  Hterary  locale  opposite 
to  him ;  therefore,  full  of  this  idea,  in  reply  to  his  master's 
query  as  to  whether  he  had  seen  any  one  come  out  of  Messrs. 
Hum  and  Balderdashe's,  he  said — 

"  I  aint  seed  no  calves,  sir ;  I  only  see  a  female  in  black 
come  out  about  five  minutes  ago." 

"Was  she  a  tall,  handsome  woman?"  further  interrogated 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  to  make  surety  doubly  sure. 

"  Oh !  dear  no  sir,  quite  the  contriary  of  that — dark  and 
short,  like  a  November  day,  and  unkiramin  plain  about  the 
head,  to  be  sure." 

Poor  Fraulein's  passport  thus  accurately  vise^  the  clever 
man  felt  assured  that  he  ran  no  risk  of  meeting  her  at  Mes- 
sieurs Hum  and  Balderdashe's,  and  so  once  more  recrossed  the 
street  (but  this  time  not  on  foot),  and  drawing  up  at  that 
establishment,  jumped  out  and  pushed  open  the  purple-cloth 
swing  door,  which  seemed  not  only  to  have  imbibed  the  deep 
blue  tints  of  the  fair  Bas  Blues  who  had  so  often  issued  through 
it,  but  also  to  vibrate  with  the  contagion  of  their  hopes  and 
feai-s,  so  tremulous  and  palpitating  was  its  motion  compared  to 
that  of  ordinary  swing  doors. 

No  sooner  had  the  clever  man's  face  appeared  through  one 
of  the  oval  glasses  at  the  top  of  the  door,  than  an  attendant 
satellite,  with  a  pen  behind  his  ear — with  which  he  had  just 
directed  a  rejected  manuscript — advanced  obsequiously  to  meet 
him,  and,  as  he  always  did  to  any  of  the  magnates  of  the  order, 
without  let  or  hindrance,  or  any  pour  parlering^  he  flung  open 
wide  the  sacred  door  of  Mr.  Hum's  sanctum,  saying  in  a  loud 
tone,  which  showed  that  he  had  not  inhaled  the  rarified  atmos- 
phere of  fashionable  novels  in  vain, 

"  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  sir ;  " 
And  then,  instantly  closing  the  door  as   suddenly  as  if  it  had 
been  that  of  a  trap,  (?)  withdrew. 

Mr.  Hum,  bowing  blandly,  rose;  laid  down  the  newspn[)er 
he  had  been  reading ;  concealed,  under  a  proof-sheet,  the  frag- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  343 

ment  of  a  biscuit  which  he  was  eating  ;  ancLdeposited  his  green 
silk  pocket  handkerchief  upon  a  letter  he  had  begun  to  some 
poor  starving  author,  expressing  the  high — the  very  high — esti- 
mation he  entertained  of  his  talents,  and  the  deep  regret  he  felt 
that  his  present  engagements  would  not  allow  of  his  entering 
into  any  arrangement  with  him  for  the  very  clever  work  he  had 
done  him  the  honour  of  submitting  to  his  inspection. 

"  Happy  to  have  the  honour  of  seeing  you  again  so  soon, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Hum,  placing  a  chair  for  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
and  with  a  waive  of  his  hand  motioning  to  him  to  take  it ; 
"  curious  enough,  sir,  your  name  was  brought  upon  the  iaxns  in 
this  very  room,  about  half  an  hour  ago.  A  German  lady  was 
here,  who  said  she  had  the  honour  of  being  known  to  you,  and 
that  you  thought  highly  of  her  literary  attainments — so  highly 
that  you  had  just  procured  her  a  situation  as  governess  with 
Mrs.  Piers  Moncton  ;  very  kind  of  you,  I'm  sure  sir — very.  She 
wished  to  pubhsh  a  translation  of  some  German  tales  in  my 
miscellany,  and  asked  if  I  would  look  them  over ;  but  as  she 
was  a  iirotegee  of  yours,  sir,  I  told  her  that  was  quite  unneces- 
sary ;  and  so  I  closed  with  her  at  once,  and  entered  into  an 
engagement  with  her  for  six  months,  at  sixteen  guineas  a  sheet 
— our  average  magazine  price,  you  know,  sir ;  but  if  you  will 
ensure  a  run  for  her  contributions  in  the  fashionable  world,  sir, 
I  should  not  mind  raising  it  to  nineteen." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  only  reply  was  a  slight  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  and  a  strange  enigmatical  smile,  which  at  once  raised 
— as  he  knew  it  would — Mr.  Hum's  curiosity,  and  excited  his 
commercial  alarm ! 

"  What !  can  it  be  possible,  sir,  that  after  all  she  is  not  a 
X)rotegee  of  yours,  and  that  you  do  not  think  highly  of  her 
literary  abilities  ?  " 

"  Why,  as  to  her  being  a  prot^gee^^  responded  the  clever 
man,  with  another  shrug,  "  yes,  certainly  ;  for  of  course  one  feels 
for  everything  that  is  unfortunate,  especially  a  woman  and  a  for- 
eigner ;  and  what  little  I  could  do  I  have  done,  to  assist  her,  poor 


344  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

thing :  but  as  for  lier  possessing  any  literary  talent,  (and  here 
ensued  another  shrug,  full  three  inches  higher  than  the  former 
one,)  poor  thing !  she  has  strangely  mistaken  her  vocation ;  and 
I  candidly  tell  you,  (but  of  course  in  strict  confidence,  my  dear 
Mr.  Hum,  and  to  prevent  your  being  a  loser,  for  my  name  must 
not  transpire  in  the  matter,)  that  I  think  entering  into  any  en- 
gagement at  all  with  her,  much  less  such  a  protracted  one  as 
a  term  of  six  months,  would  be  a  very  losing  speculation  for 
you." 

"  Dear  me,  I'm  extremely  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure,  sir ;  I'll 
write  to  her  immediately  and  cancel  the  agreement." 

"Mind!"  interrupted  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  "that  you 
don't  get  me  into  any  scrape  with  her ;  a  male  enemy  I  don't 
mind,  having,  I  suppose,  as  many  as  most  men,  but  women  are 
so  cursedly  vindictive,  they  never  hate  by  halves,  and  besides, 
poor  thing,  I  should  be  really  sorry  to  hurt  her  feelings  ;  but 
still,  my  dear  Mr.  Hum,  I  consider  it  a  paramount  duty  to  pre- 
vent your  being  swindled  to  the  amount  of  £108,  for  that  is 
what  it  would  be." 

"Oh,  dear  sir,  no ;  of  course  I'll  take  very  good  care  your 
name  is  not  brought  into  the  business ;  we  have  always  ways 
of  getting  out  of  these  things.  Upon  referring  the  matter  to 
Mr.  Clench,  my  reader,  he  found  that  publishing  these  German 
tales  would  not  suit  my  present  engagements ;  am  exceeding 
sorry  that  I  cannot  at  this  precise  time  avail  myself  of  the  ser- 
vices of  a  lady  of  such  distinguished  talents,  and  more  especial- 
ly of  talents  of  which  so  great  an  authority  as  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  thinks  so  highly,  &c.,  &c.  something  in  that  style,  sir; 
you  see,  quoting  your  name  in  support  of  her  talents,  she  never 
can  suspect  that  you  have  depreciated  them." 

"  Ah  ! — yes, — that — a, — will  do  very  well  ;  but  what 
brought  me  here  this  morning,  Mr.  Hum,  was  to  know  if  you 
would  have  any  objection  to  publish  a  work — say  a  novel,  by 
me — in  favour  of  protection  ?  (for  I  suppose  you  know  that  I 
have  joined  Lord  Redby's  party  from  conviction  T)  " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  345 

Mr.  Hum  loas  aware  of  that  interesting  fact ; — "  For  sir," 
said  he,  "  I  was  just  reading  a  very  high  eulogiiim  upon  your 
disinterested  abandonment  of  free  trade  principles,  in  '  The  Morn- 
ing Puff,'  when  you  came  in." 

"  Ah  !  well,  what  I  was  going  to  say,"  resumed  the  clever 
man,  "  was,  that  as  you  had  published  my  pamphlet  against  the 
Protectionists,  perhaps  you  might  not  like  publishing  the  other 
side  of  the  question." 

"  Makes  not  the  slightest  difference  to  me,  sir,  anything  you 
like  to  write ;  my  politics  are  on  either  side,  equally  as  long  as 
the  percentage  is  the  same,  ha  !  ha  !  ha !  " 

"  Why  certainly  it  cannot  be  expected,"  said  the  M.P.,  with 
a  grave  look  of  deprecation  at  such  mercenary  laxity  of  'princi- 
ple !  mingled  at  the  same  time  with  a  benevolent  pity,  and 
toleration  for  the  frailty  of  ^ poor  human  nature,^  "it  cannot  be 
expected  that  men  without  the  pale  of  political  life,  can  feel  that 
heart  and  soul,  that  vitally  conscientious  (and  he  emphasised 
the  last  word)  interest  in  the  right  and  the  w^rong,  the  true  and 
\hQ  false,  which  those  who  throw  themselves  a  corps  perdu  in- 
to the  arena  of  politics  do." 

'*  I  suppose  not,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Hum,  fishing  up  from  the 
depths  of  a  large  black  morocco  blotting  book  a  sheet  of  stamped 
paper,  whereon  to  write  a  memorandum  of  an  agreement  to  be 
entered  into  between  Henry  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  Esq.,  M.  P.,  of 
the  Albany,  on  the  one  part,  and  Humphry  Hum,  Esq.,  of  No. 
— Great  Marlborough  Street,  on  the  other,  for  a  novel,  in  three 
vols,  (lai-ge  octavo,)  to  be  entitled 

"  MY  PRINCIPLES." 

''  Dear  me,  how  stupid  1 "  said  the  clever  man,  in  reading 
over  the  copy  he  had  made  for  Mr.  Hum,  of  that  gentleman's 
memorandum  ;  "  how  very  stupid,  I  have  left  out  the  name  of 
the  book — '  My  Principles.' " 

"  Oh !  that^s  neither  here,  nor  there,  sir,"  retorted  the  pub- 
lisher, unintentionally  epigrammatic,  "this  will  do  very  well,  it 

makes  no  difference,  sir." 
15* 


346  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

And  having  arranged  this  matter  to  their  mutual  satisfac- 
tion, the  Hum  and  the  humbug  parted  ;  the  latter  well  pleased 
with  (upon  the  whole)  the  successful  morning  he  had  had ;  for 
had  he  not  seen  one  of  his  incumbrances  safely  incarcerated, 
and  had  he  not  prevented  another  from  entering  the  lists  of 
literature  with  himself,  and  bartering  the  labours  he  had  so 
often  imposed  upon  her,  for  something  like  an  adequate  com- 
pensation, and  the  consciousness  of  these  two  laudable  achieve- 
ments, gave  to  his  whole  appearance  the  gloss  and  sheen  of 
satisfaction  ;  so  that  on  re-entering  his  cab,  be  almost  involun- 
tarily fell  into  that  sort  of  spread  eagle  pose^  by  which  poor 
D'Orsay  used  to  be  known  a  mile  off ;  but  alas  !  upon  a  nearer 
approach,  he  had  not  the /ace  to  carry  out  the  likeness.  Look- 
ing at  his  Breguet,  he  found  to  his  consternation  that  it  was  one 
o'clock  !  the  hour  at  which  his  aunt  lunched,  for  her  hours,  like 
her  habits,  were  all  dowargeresque,  breakfasting  at  nine,  lunch- 
ing at  one,  and  dining  at  six  ;  if  he  could  possibly  avoid  it,  he 
never  liked  disturbing  her  at  any  of  her  meals,  for  like  the  un- 
tameable  originals  of  those  old  lions,  which  adorn  the  handles 
of  tea-urns,  and  the  knockers  of  hall-doors.  Lady  Mammonton 
was  always  particularly  fierce  at  feeding  time.  The  chariot  was 
at  the  door,  for  her  ladyship's  diurnal  airing,  and  although  the 
day  was  warm,  and  balmy  in  the  extreme,  Pumilion,  the  butler, 
'  assisted  '  by  one  of  the  footmen,  was  drawing  up  all  the  win- 
dows, and  insinuating  a  tin  of  hot  water  under  the  rug,  very 
similar  to  those  whereupon  confectioners  keep  tai-ts  warm  ;  and 
as  nothing  could  well  be  more  tart  than  Lady  Mammonton's 
temper,  this  individual  tin  in  a  manner  followed  the  same  voca- 
tion, though  with  a  difference.  The  dowager  lady  had  mar- 
ried a  dowager  lord  (without  incumbrances)  very  late  in  life^ 
when  both  were  old  enough  to  have  known  better,  for  she  was 
a  spinster  of  forty-five,  and  Lord  Mammonton  a  widower  of 
sixty- ditto,  childless,  with  large  unmortgaged  estates,  the  title 
becoming  extinct  at  his  death  ;  for  the  four  years  the  poor  man 
had  lived  after  his  marriage,  he  had  been  a  dull  and  dutiful 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  347 

husband  ;  but  from  the  week  following  that  event,  he  had 
dwindled  gradually  away,  visibly  dissolving  in  the  vinegar  of 
his  wife's  temper ;  but  being  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school — 
which  always  inculpated  a  sound  substratum  of  Christianity,  he 
having  no  heirs,  direct  or  collateral — in  dying,  saw  fit  to  return 
good  for  evil,  by  leaving  his  countess  all  his  landed  and  funded 
property,  free  and  unfetterred,  at  her  own  disposal ;  which  tes- 
tamentary munificence  on  his  j^art,  instantly  elevated  his  widow 
into  a  personnage,  and  for  which,  she  evinced  her  gratitude,  by 
always,  from  the  day  of  his  death,  retrospectively  referring  to 
him,  on  all  occasions,  as  '  poor  dear  Lord  Mammonton.'  But 
hers  was  just  the  sort  of  character  and  disposition  worthy  of 
having  money,  and,  therefore,  it  is  into  such  secure,  lock-up,  im- 
pregnable, adamantine  hearts  that  wealth  generally  flows  ;  and, 
although  her  tastes  were  sufiiciently  costly  in  some  things — 
and  she  never  hesitated  in  the  most  hberal  manner,  to  spend 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  upon  herself — yet  had  she  the 
true  alchymistic  secret  oi accumulation, — that  of  saving  farthings 
— and  economising  in  the  minutest  details,  and  of  never  ex- 
pending, much  less  bestowing,  a  sou  upon  others,  for  her  piety 
was  of  that  resigned,  well-disciplined  order,  which  caused  her  to 
think  that  every  one  occupied  the  exact  position  in  the  social 
scale  which  God  intended  them  to  fill ;  and  therefore  she  never 
presumed  to  interfere  with  the  arrangements  of  Providence,  by 
ministering  to  the  wants,  mitigating  the  afflictions,  or  warding 
ofi"  the  perils  of  her  less  fortunately  circumstanced  fellow- 
creatures  ;  in  short,  she  was  pre-eminently  endowed  with  the 
Frenchman's  receipt  for  getting  well  through  the  world  : — 

"  Mauvais  camr  et  bonne  digestion." 

-  From  a  long  life  of  gilded  selfishness,  Lady  Mammonton 
had  become  the  sun  of  her  own  social  system  ;  she  herself,  she, 
was  (in  her  own  estimation)  the  only  authentic  precedent  for  all 
circumstances,  moral  or  physical ;  consequently,  even  in  an  ill- 
ness that  she  had  never  had,  she  did  not  believe ;  and  as  to  all 


348  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

misfortunes^  she  was  of  course  an  utter  sceptic,  having  all  her 
life  been  guarded  against  them  by  the  impregnable  bulwark  of 
Wealth,  so  that  neither  calumny^  conspiracy,  defamation,  nor 
any  other  sort  of  moral  assassination  existed,  according  to  her 
fiat,  save  in  the  inflated  regions  of  fiction,  for  the  there  legiti- 
mate purpose  of  working  out  a  plot ;  and,  although  she  could, 
on  her  one  idol,  self,  lavish  thousands,  yet  being  both  practi- 
cally and  theoretically  parsimonious  in  the  extreme,  she  also 
indulged  in  the  most  wonderful  theoretical  financial  tours  de 
force  for  others  ;  such,  for  instance,  as  the  axiom  that  if  per- 
sons had  but  twopence  a  week  to  live  upon,  it  would  i)e  but 
prudent  to  save  three-halfpence  a  week  out  of  it !  the  i^ossihility 
of  the  achievement  forming  no  part  of  her  calculations  ;  for  that 
would  have  been  coming  to  the  most  exigent  of  all  things — 
facts,  an  infected  region,  where  she  prudently  never  ventured 
when  her  fellow-creatures'  miseries  were  located  there.  It  is 
perhaps  needless  to  add  that  such  a  self-worshipper,  self-sacri- 
ficer,  and  self  sufficer,  had  not  a  human  sympathy  to  spare  for 
any  created  thing,  and  least  of  all  for  that  most  prevalent  of 
organic  diseases — enlargement  of  the  heart,  bounded  on  every 
side  by  the  straits  of  an  empty  purse.  She  was  not  poor,  she 
had  never  been  in  difficulties  of  any  kind,  ergo,  when  others 
were,  it  was  of  course  all  their  own  fault,  and  entirely  owing  to 
their  own  imfrudence  ! 

Ye  poor  imprudents  !  after  the  Mammonton  fashion  !  that 
is,  all  those  who  have  human  hearts  throbbing  with  heaven- 
tuned  impulses,  that  out  of  your  own  most  dire  necessities  can 
still  find  something  to  spare  for  those  of  your  fellow-creatures, 
be  not  too  downcast,  for  verily  if  that  scanty  garment,  Charity, 
covereth  a  multitude  of  sins,  such  imprudence,  with  its  downy 
lining  of  warm  sympathy,  concealeth  a  multitude  of  kindred 
virtues. 

"  Lady  Mammonton  was  the  sole  surviving  sister  of  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars'  mother,  her  maiden  name  having  been  Pon- 
sonby,  and  her  marriage  had  taken  place  some  years  prior  to 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  349 

the  birth  of  her  nephew;  as  she  was  now  seventy-three, 
and  at  the  death  of  her  sister — which  occurred  two  years  after 
the  demise  of  Mr.  Ferrars,  her  husband — Lady  Mammonton 
then  being  a  widow,  in  full  power,  had,  at  that  event,  adopted 
her  orphan  nephew,  thereby  thinking  that  she  had  compounded 
in  the  lump  by  this  one  act,  for  all  future  and  minor  acts  of 
compassion  or  benevolence,  as  she  did  for  her  other  taxes,  deem- 
ing it  cheaper  and  less  troublesome.  The  result  of  her  system 
of  education  and  judicious  training,  we  have  already  seen  in 
the  career  of  her  highly  intellectual  and  totally  unprincipled 
nephew  ;  for  every  process  of  mental  improvement  should  have 
a  direct  or  indirect  reference  to  the  ultimate  development  of 
spiritual  life,  or  it  will  not  only  fail  in  achieving  its  purport,  but 
will  wrap  into  tortuous  deformity,  even  the  very  noblest  organi- 
zations. 

"Has  my  aunt  lunched  yet  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
as  he  sprang  from  his  cabriolet. 

"  No,  sir ;  her  ladyship  is  still  at  luncheon,"  said  PumiHon, 
removing  his  head  from  the  carriage,  where,  like  his  interroga- 
tor, he  had  been  looking  after  her  ladyship's  tin  (!) 

"  But  you  can  go  in,  sir ;  for  Jacobs  the  broker,  from  War- 
dour  Street,  is  there. 

"  What  then  ;  has  she  bought  that  old  bugle  tapes- 
try?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  don't  think  it's  that ;  her  ladyship  is  a  making 
of  a  collection  of  hantique  jewellery,  sir  ;  I  think  it  is  some- 
thing of  that  sort  that  Jacobs  has  brought  her." 

"  Just  go  and  ask  her,  will  you,  if  she'll  see  me  ?  Say  I 
shan't  detain  her  a  moment,  as  I  see  she's  going  out ;  only  I've 
something  important  to  tell  her." 

For  this  affectionate  nephew  was  punctilious  in  the  extreme, 
not  to  agitate  his  amiable  relative's  nerves  or  ruffle  her  temper, 
(which  always  had  a  sympathetic  effect  upon  her  cheque-book,)  by 
obtruding  himself  unbidden  upon  her  august  presence.  No 
wonder,  therefore,  that  she  thought  him  the  heaii,  ideal  of  good 


350  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

breeding — the  only  genuine  good  breeding,  that  which,  hke 
charity,  begins  at  home — as  well  as  the  phoenix  of  intellectual 
pre-eminence,  though  it  is  not  only  old  women  who  see  all 
things  through  the  medium  of  their  own  spectacles.  Pumilion 
soon  returned,  saying  that  her  ladyship  would  see  him  for  a 
minute,  but  that  he  was  not  to  detain  her  longer. 

Upon  entering  the  dining-room  the  clever  man  found  his 
aunt,  with  one  hand,  eating  a  consomm^,  out  of  a  jewelled  sevre 
broth  basin  (a  former  present  from  himself,)  with  a  portrait  of 
Louis  Quatorze,  in  a  medallion  on  one  side  of  it,  and  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Fontange  on  the  other;  while,  with  her  left  hand, 
she  w^as  minutely  examining  an  antique  ring — of  one  very  large 
heart-shaped  brilliant,  surmounted  by  a  true  lover's  knot  in  ru- 
bies; Jacob  Jacobs  was  standing  at  some  little  distance,  and  the 
table  was  strewed  with  one  or  two  rare  carcanets,  or  jewelled 
necklaces,  as  old  as  Edward  the  Third's  time,  and  chatelaines  of 
more  modern  date.  Upon  her  nephew's  entrance  the  old  lady 
did  not  raise  her  eyes  or  desist  from  either  of  her  avocations, 
but  merely  muttered,  reproachfully,  shaking  her  head  by  way  of 
accompaniment — 

"  My  dear  Henry,  you  know  that  one  is  my  hour  for  lunch- 
eon, and  that  I  hate  to  be  detained  from  my  drive  immediately 
after,  by  visits." 

'•  My  dearest  aunt,  nothing  but  an  important  communica- 
tion which  I  have  to  make  to  you,  and  which  I  think  will  give 
you  pleasure  to  hear,  could  excuse  my  intruding  upon  you  at 
this,  I  know,  inconvenient  hour." 

So  saying,  he  gave,  or  rather  flung  a  slight  nod  of  recog- 
nition to  Jacobs,  while  Lady  Mammonton,  somewhat  mollified 
by  this  preamble,  looked  up  at  him  for  an  instant,  as  she  ten- 
dered the  ring  she  was  holding  for  his  inspection,  and  said, — 

"  I  know,  Henry,  you  have  very  good  taste.  Tell  me  what 
you  think  of  this  ring,  and  whether  j^ou  don't  think  it  dear,  for 
Mr.  Jacobs  asks  five  hundred  guineas  for  it ;  but  then,  he  says 
it  is  authentically  historical,  having  been  given  by  Queen  Eliza- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  351 

beth  to  Lady  Hunsdon,  and  by  her  to  an  ancestress  of  the 
lady  who  wishes  to  dispose  of  it." 

"  I  don't  think,  sir,"  put  in  Jacobs,  "that yon  will  call  it  dear, 
totally  setting  aside  its  historical,  and  merely  looking  to  its  in- 
trinsic value,  for,  as  I  was  observing  to  her  ladyship,  the  brilliant 
is  not  only  as  large  as  a  cherry,  but  so  thick,  wherein  consists 
the  real  value  of  diamonds,  that  in  the  trade,  it  could  be  easily 
converted  into  three  rings  that  would  look  equally  well,  and 
remain  equally  large  in  diameter." 

As  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  took  the  ring,  a  dark  and  crowded 
expression  of  mixed  passions  for  a  moment  jostled  each  other 
through  all  his  features,  but,  suddenly  clearing  his  brow,  he  ran 
out  into  great  admiration  of  its  beauty,  and  its  genuine  Eliza- 
bethan setting,  declaring  that  he  did  not  think  it  at  all  dear, 
looking  to  the  size,  water,  and  thickness  of  the  diamond  ;  and 
advising  his  aunt,  by  all  means,  to  secure  it  immediately. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Jacobs,  "  you  will  jQnd  it  still  less  dear, 
when  I  tell  you  that  it  is  supposed  to  be — the  supposition 
amounting  nearly  to  a  certainty — the  identical  ring  which  Eliza- 
beth gave  Essex,  and  which  Lady  Nottingham  so  treacherously 
omitted  returning  to  the  Queen  till  too  late." 

"  Indeed  ! "  responded  Lady  Mammonton's  nephew,  while 
his  eyes  wandered  vacantly,  yet  intently,  over  the  splendid  bau- 
ble, as  if  pondering  whether  the  bright  but  ill-fated  spirit  of 
Robert  Devereux  might  not  have  passed  into  it,  and  continued 
contagiously  at  once  to  sway,  and  to  mar,  its  inanimate  des- 
tinies. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  his  aunt  (appealing  to  Jacobs),  as  she 
took  the  ring  from  him,  placed  it  on  her  skinny  linger,  and  held 
out  her  hand  at  arm's  length,  the  better  to  judge  of  its  brilliant 
effect — 

"  When  you  say  five  hundred  guineas,  you  mean  five  hun- 
dred pounds,  for  no  one  pays  in  guineas  now." 

"  I  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon — I  mean  five  hundred  guin- 
eas.    I  would  buy  it  myself  at  that  price,  rather  than  the  lady 


352  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

to  whom  it  belongs  should  receive  a  shilling  less  for  it  than  that 
sum,  as  this  is  the  second  time,  within  a  few  months,  that  neces- 
sity has  compelled  her,  poor  thing,  to  place  it  at  my  disposal ; 
and,  indeed,  in  a  mere  mercantile  point  of  view,  I  consider  that 
within  its  value." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Lady  Mammonton,  with  a  contemptuous  toss 
of  her  head,  "  of  course  people  are  always  in  terrible  distress 
when  they  want  to  sell  things — one  hears  of  nothing  else  but 
needy  people,  and  people  in  diflSculties  now-a-days.  For  my 
part  I'm  sick  of  all  this  wonderful  misery,  and  have  no  patience 
with  it ;  it's  all  owing  to  their  own  imprudence  and  extrava- 
gance. Why  don't  they  live  within  their  incomes,  as  I  do ;  I''ni 
never  in  difficulties." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Jacobs,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  w^hich  Pas- 
quin  might  have  borrowed  without  any  very  usurious  interest, 
"  it  is  because  everybody  has  not  the  same  commodious  income 
to  live  within,  as  your  ladyship." 

"  All  nonsense ;  thousands  or  hundreds  make,  or  at  least 
ought  to  make,  no  difference." 

"  But  your  ladyship  forgets  there  are  wretches  who  do  not 
even  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  fixed  parish  allowance,  amount- 
ing to  a  few  shillings,  much  less  a  certain  income  amounting  to 
hundreds,  or  even  to  a  solitary  hundred ! " 

"  Then  they  must  only  graduate  the  scale :  if  they  can't  af- 
ford a  whole  loaf,  let  them  learn  to  be  content  with  half-a-one." 

"  But  if," — further  objected  the  unbeheving  Jew  ! — "  they 
have  not  the  means  of  obtaining  even  half-a-one,  what  would 
your  ladyship  then  propose  as  a  remedy  for  their  hunger  1 " 

"  Let  them  go  without,"  fiatised  this  so  rigidly  moral  lady, 
on  the  score  oi  finance^  as  she  turned  the  facets  of  her  five  hun- 
dred guinea  ring,  so  as  to  catch  another  phase  of  their  refrac- 
tions. 

"  Were  the  remedy  but  as  feasible  as  it  is  economical  and 
concise,  the  poor  laws  would  require  no  amendment,"  respond- 
ed Jacobs,  as  he  began  gathering  together  the  rest  of  his  jewel- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  353 

lery,  and  re})lacing  the  difterent  articles  in  their  respective  cases, 
while  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  somehow  not  relishing  the  turn 
the  dialogue  had  taken  between  this  Christian  lady  and  the 
Jew,  made  a  generous  little  anticipatory  plunge  into  the  coffei-s 
of  the  former,  by:  saying — 

"My  dearest  aunt,  rather  than  you  should  not  have  that 
ring,  I  will  gladly  pay  the  odd  twenty-five  pounds,  and  then  I 
hope  you  will  consider  it  a  leetle — a  very  little  as  my  gift." 

But  Lady  Mammerton,  true  to  her  colours  wherever  money 
was  concerned,  shook  her  head  and  merely  growled  out,  as  she 
told  her  nephew  to  ring  the  bell  for  Pumihon  to  bring  her  her 
cheque-book  out  of  her  dressing-room,  "That's  all  nonsense, 
you  know,  my  dear  Henry,  for  your  presents  always  come  out 
of  my  pocket,  and  you  know  I'm  very  independent.  I  never  ask 
or  accept  favours  from  any  one,  and  although  poor  dear  Lord 
Mammonton  had  so  much  influence  in  the  political  world,  as 
indeed  his  Memory  has  to  this  day,  and  by  one  word  to  the 
minister  I  could  get  appointments,  or  redress,  that  might  save 
people  from  ruin,  I  have  always  been  too  proud  and  too  inde- 
pendent !  to  utter  that  word  ;  so  that,  my  dear  Henry,  you  will 
find  that  I  have  not  frittered  away  your  interest  by  doing  things 
for  other  people." 

Here  ensued  a  string  of  florid  compliments  from  the  clever 
man,  to  his  equally  clever  relative,  upon  the  noble  virtue  of  in- 
dependence, as  poised  upon  the  solid  bases  of  wanting  nothing 
oneseZ/,  and  doing  nothing  for  the  wants  of  others,  as  practised 
by  that  amiable  lady ;  which  eulogistic  flow  was  only  intermpt- 
ed  by  the  return  of  Pumilion  with  the  cheque-book. 

Lady  Mammonton  having  written  Jacobs  a  draft  for  the 
£525,  he  placed  it  in  his  pocket-book,  and  departed  with  the 
remainder  of  his  Moijen  aye  joyeaux^  which  she  did  not  pur- 
chase on  that  occasion. 

No  sooner  did  he  find  himself  teie-d-tete  with  his  aunt,  than 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  immediately  proceeded  to  inform  her, 
that,  from  a  profound  deference  to  her  superior  judgment,  and 


854  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

a  conviction  that  her  experience  must  linow  better  than  his  in- 
experience (?)  he  had,  at  the  loss  of  a  large  slice  of  public 
esteem,  and  its  small  change  popularity,  joined  Lord  Redby's 
party.  At  this  intelligence,  the  Dowager's  eyes  actually  spark- 
led with  delight,  but  the  first  words  she  uttered  were  in  the 
form  of  a  question — 

"  Well,  my  dear,  and  what  have  you  got  ? " 

"Why,  my  dear  aunt,  nothing — as  yet — for  with  that  d — d 
freedom  of  the  press,  which  exists  in  this  country,  and  which  is 
very  convenient  on  one  side,  but  monstrously  inconvenient  on 
the  other,  I  should  be  torn  to  pieces,  if  I  began  by  taking  office ; 
but  all  that  will  come  in  good  time,  and  in  the  meanwhile,  as 
long  as  I  have  your  approbation,  my  dearest  aunt,  I  want  no 
other  reward." 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  Henry,"  responded  the  old  lady,  with  a 
gracious  smile,  holding  out  two  fingers  to  him,  "  you  have  act- 
ed extremely  sensibly,  and  I  am  very  much  pleased  with  3^ou, — 
very  much ;  and  as  you  now  belong  to  a  respectable  party  in 
politics,  I  dare  say  you — want  a  little  money, — eh  ? " 

"  You  are  too  kind,  my  dear  aunt,  and  if  you  could  conve- 
niently let  me  have  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds,  I  don't  pre- 
tend to  say,  that  it  wouldn't  be  of  great  use  to  me  just  now." 

"  I've  been  thinking,  Henry,"  said  she,  while  she  dipped 
her  pen  into  the  ink  to  write  another  cheque,  what  a  capital 
match  Lady  Mabel  Maiden  would  be  for  you,  and  I  wonder  you 
have  not  thought  of  it  too,  her  jointure  is  nine  thousand  a  year, 
besides  that  house  on  Richmond-terrace,  or  Whitehall-gardens, 
which  do  they  call  it  ?  and  the  plate  and  diamonds ;  so  that 
you  would  have  your  menage  ready  monte^  and  such  a  fine  wo- 
man besides." 

"  I  have  thought  of  it  (!)  my  dear  aunt ;  only  Maiden  being 
so  recently  dead,  you  see,  one  cannot  commence  operations  im- 
mediately !  " 

"There,"  said  her  ladyship,  pushing  him  over  the  draft, 
"  we  Tories  always  do  things  handsomely,  as  you  will  find,  now 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  356 

that  you  have  joined  them  ;  you  asked  for  £200,  and  I  have 
given  you  £500,  that  is  £475,  as  I  have  deducted  the  twenty- 
five  pounds  you  said  you  would  give  towards  this  ring."  This 
trait  of  microscopic  meanness,  was  worthy  of  the  royal  miser  and 
virago,  whose  ring  she  had  just  bought,  but  she  chuckled  again 
at  the  idea  of  this  sapient  economy  made  upon  her  own  monies, 
while  her  nephew  was  profuse  in  his  expressions  of  gratitude  and 
affectionate  admiration  of  her  liberality  !  as  he  handed  her  into 
her  carriage,  preparatory  to  his  getting  into  his  own,  and  driving 
to  the  chambers  of  his  legal  adviser,  Mr.  Littlego  Slimey craft. 
Perhaps,  w^e  are  only  informing  the  sagacious  reader  of  wdiat  no 
doubt  he  or  she  has  all  along  suspected,  namely,  that  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars  and  Mr.  Henry,  of  Magnolia  Lodge,  poor  Florence 
Wilmot's  husband,  are  one  and  the  same  person  ;  as  let  us  hope 
for  the  honor  of  human  nature,  that  there  are  not  two  such. 
His  plan,  advised  by  and  digested  wnth  Slimeycraft,  w\is  under 
the  pretext  of  getting  his  wife  out  to  the  Mediterranean  in  a 
yacht,  to  ship  her  off  to  Sydney,  calculating  that  she  would  die 
on  the  voyage,  long  before  she  arrived,  and  so  effectually  rid 
him  of  that  great  stumbling-block  to  his  future  schemes,  while 
in  the  hurry  and  flurry  of  embarking,  the  children  were  to  be 
put  on  board  another  vessel  bound  for  Natal ;  his  intention  was 
not  actually  to  allow  them  to  starve,  but  to  have  them  brought 
up  as  the  children  of  a  common  labourer,  ignoring  their  real 
name  and  parentage,  which  would  effectually  prevent  their  ever 
obtruding  their  legitimacy  upon  him,  so  as  to  mortgage  any  of 
his  future  possessions  ;  and  that  morning,  finding  that  Lady 
Hunsdon's  ring  was  safe  in  his  aunt's  possession,  and  had  realized 
five  hundred  guineas,  he  resolved  to  make  this  cruelly  obtained 
sum  of  his  victim's  defray  the  expenses  of  her  own  banishment, 
and  the  ruin  of  her  children  ;  this  was  a  subtle  stroke  of  villany, 
which  his  prototype  the  arch  fiend  might  have  envied  him. 
The  only  drawback  to  this  well-digested  scheme,  was  Mrs. 
Bousefield's  sharp,  prying,  ubiquitous  eyes,  and  glibly  hung 
tongue ;  but  he  did  not  doubt,  but  that  Slimeycraft,  (knowing 


366  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

what  a  sinner  he  was,)  could  also  be  got  to  enact  a  publican, 
and  like  a  second  Bousefield !  carry  off  this  widowed  Helen. 
It  was  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  plot,  that  he  had  been  in 
reality  waiting,  more  than  for  the  demise  of  his  aunt,  when  he 
had  entreated  Edith  to  accept  him  as  a  lover  on  trial,  for  a  few 
months,  and  had  assured  her  in  all  sincerity  that  he  would  not 
hurnj  her  into  a  marriage  ! 


SECTION  XIV. 

"  And  we,  indeed,  justly,  for  we  receive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds ;  but  this 
man  hath  done  nothing  amiss." 

iMke  xxiii.  40. 

"The  young  year,  blushing  and  trembling 'twixt  the  striving  kisses  of  parting 
spring  and  meeting  summer,  seems  their  only  parallel." 

"  Oh !  love  like  theirs  is  lent  to  earth,  not  given. 
And  has  no  wings,  but  what  soar  back  to  heaven !  " 

Unpunished  Flay. 

"  A  man  of  business  may  talk  of  philosophy  :— 
A  man  who  has  no  business  may  practise  it." 

Once  more  Parliament  had  met  for  the  delay  of  business,  and 
that  season,  which  with  a  laudable  retrospective  affection  for 
"  the  things  that  have  been,"  we  traditionally  call "  The  Spring," 
had  again  come  round  in  London,  and  during  the  intervening 
months,  the  wheel  of  fortune  (since  so  rich  a  lady  modestly  al- 
ways drives  the  same  one-ivheeled  vehicle),  had  more  than  once 
hitched  against  unforeseen  obstacles,  or  stuck  in  the  mire,  with 
some  of  the  most  skilful  charioteers  who  had  essayed  to  guide 
it.  Such,  even,  had  been  the  case  with  Mr.  Benaraby  and  his 
fides  achates  of  patent  cleverness,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars.  The 
former,  at  starling,  had  broken  down  in  his  budget,  owing  to 
having  obstinately  resisted  the  sage  financial  advice  of  his  more 
experienced  friend.  Sir  Benjamin  Bullion  ;  so  that,  notwithstand- 
ing the  finished  oratory  of  his  five  hours'  speech,  the  Redby  ad- 
ministration, like  the  armadillo  at  the  Zoological  Gardens,  had 


358  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

no  sooner  got  in,  tLan  it  was  out  again.  And  yet  it  might  be 
truly  said  of  Mr.  Benaraby's  eloquence,  as  it  has  been  said  of 
Robertson  the  histoi-ian's  style,  that  it  was  "  flowing,  equal,  and 
majestic ;  harmonious  beyond  that  of  most  English  speakers ;  " 
yet  seldom  deviating  in  quest  of  harmony  into  inversion,  redun- 
dancy, or  afl:ectation.  Moreover,  as  a  politician,  he  reversed  the 
idiosyncracy  of  Tacitus,  whose  verve  consists  in  making  every 
word  say  as  much  as  possible ;  for  the  ex-Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer's art  lay  in  managing,  during  his  longest  orations,  to 
make  every  word  say — that  is,  commit  itself  and  him — as  little 
as  possible ;  which  fully  accounted,  perhaps,  for  his  not  being 
as  lunainous  as  so  sagacious  a  mind,  so  keen  an  observer  of  men 
and  things,  almost  jure  divino  ought  to  have  been  ;  or,  as  one 
who  in  his  closet,  studied  men  as  a  great  composer  might  a 
difiScult  musical  score,  and  in  public  evinced  the  fruits  of 
this  study,  by  playing  upon  them  with  infinite  skill,  and  extem- 
porising all  sorts  of  brilliant  and  daring  variations.  Still  scan- 
ning him  by  the  text  of  the  Roman  critic,  he  was  not  luminous 
either  in  his  speeches  or  in  his  writings. 

"  Cui  lecta  potentor  erit  res, 
]S"ec  facundia  deseret  hunc,  nee  lucidus  ordo." 

Though  it  might  be  that  the  real  secret  of  his  non-lucidity  was 
his  want  of  sincerity,  for  truth  is  the  nucleus  of  all  light.  In- 
deed, to  use  an  expression  of  Milton's,  which,  I  believe,  has  al- 
ready been  applied  to  Lord  Chatham,  "he  had  not  even  the 
correctness  so  striking  in  the  great  Roman  orator,  but  he  had 
the  verba  ardentia — the  bold,  glowing  words." 

Yet,  nothing  daunted,  Mr.  Benaraby  sat  amid  the  crumbling 
ruins  of  his  sudden  splendour,  as  Gibbon  did  among  those  of 
Rome,  pondering  upon  the  great  work  upon  which  his  future 
fame  was  to  rest.  It  was  amid  the  ruins  of  the  Capitol,  while 
the  bare-footed  friars  were  singing  vespers  in  the  Temple  of 
Jupiter,  that  the  historian  mused  over  the  plan  of  his  "Decline 
and  Fall ; "   and  it  was  amid  the  destruction   of  the  capital^ 


BEHIND    THE    SCE:NES.  359 

whilst  tlie  bare-faced  members  were  talking  nonsense  in  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Stephen's,  that  the  floored  financier  meditated  up- 
on his  "  fall,  and  future  rise  ! " 

On  the  other  hand,  the  weft  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  po- 
litical disappointment  was  woofed  with  many  minor  ones  of  a 
domestic,  and  therefore  of  a  less  magniloquent,  nature.  In  the 
first  place,  poor  Florence,  Avith  that  obstinacy  peculiar  to  the 
genus  WIFE,  had  neither  died,  nor  allowed  her  tender  husband 
to  practically  evince  his  patronage  of  emigration  by  expatriat- 
ing her  and  her  children  ;  so  that  on  that  score  he  had  but  one 
consolation,  which  was,  that  die  she  must  soon,  and  then  he 
w^ould  find  no  difiiculty  in  disencumbering  himself  of  the  chil- 
dren. Meanwhile,  his  eldest  son  was  likely  to  get  the  start  of 
him,  in  his  pubhc  career,  as  having  left  the  treadmill  a  finished 
and  hardened  vaurien,  poor  Union  Jack,  now  in  Newgate  for 
having  been  connected  with  a  gang  of  house-breakers,  whose 
acquaintance  he  had  made  in  his  first  prison,  was  about  to  get 
a  government  appointment  to  the  Colonies,  so  that  at  all  events 
there  was  one  of  his  encumbrances  provided  for.  But  still  the 
clever  man  had  other  sources  of  domestic  irritation  to  contend 
with  :  for  Lady  Mammonton,  with  that  charming  inconsistency 
for  which  some  old  ladies  are  so  celebrated,  upon  the  dissolu- 
ton  of  the  Redby  Ministry,  had  tartly  npbraided  him  for  his 
want  of  political  prescience,  in  having  ratted  at  so  unpropitious 
a  moment,  and  not  having  known  the  ins  and  outs  of  things 
better — more  especially  the  latter.  Though  we  must  in  justice 
to  her  nephew  state,  that  notwithstanding  the  speedy  annihila- 
tion of  the  party  he  had  joined,  nothing  could  have  been  more 
exemplary  than  his  external  deportment  since  he  had  become 
a  Conservative.  For  like  Horace  Walpole,  he  had  "gone  to 
church  sometimes  to  induce  his  servants  to  go  to  church  ; " 
though,  also,  like  the  Strawberry  Hill  worthy,  he  did  not  "  per- 
suade them  to  believe  what  he  didn't  beheve  himself;"  but 
thought  with  that  other  accomplished  gentleman,  that  a  good 
moral  sermon  now  and  then  might  instruct  and  benefit  them, 


360  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tlioiigli  he  scrupulously  (if  not  exactly  religiously)  refrained,  as 
we  have  before  said,  from  persuading  them  to  believe.  He  only 
set  them  the  example  of  listening. 

But  from  the  philosophy  and  philanthropy  of  this  distin- 
guised  pair  of  senators,  though  not  exactly  of  statesmen,  we 
will  turn  to  the  quiet,  small,  deep  current  of  Edith's  hfe  ;  whose 
surface  was  alone  ruffled  or  smoothed  by  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
her  own  spirit  within  it,  or  brightened  by  the  Heaven  above, 
which  in  all  its  alternations  it  still  endeavoured  to  mirror.  Such 
gentle,  humble  rills,  we  doubt  not,  being  the  only  ones  that  will 
reach  in  unsuUied  purity  the  vast  ocean  of  eternity !  while  the 
dashing,  noisy,  foaming,  headlong  torrents,  whose  turbid  whirl- 
pools break  in  chiliad  echoes  over  the  world's  high  places,  may 
with  their  bursting  bubbles  hlot  the  great  judgment  book ;  but 
that  is  all. 

Towards  the  autumn  of  the  preceding  year,  Harold  Lan- 
caster had  declared  his  love  to  Edith ;  but,  alas !  had  also  de- 
clared his  poverty.  He  had,  he  said,  but  £300  a-year,  and 
therefore  had  still  his  way  to  make  in  the  world ;  but  the 
Duchess  of  Liddesdale  was  a  relation  of  his,  and  he  had  no  doubt 
from  the  great  fancy  she  had  taken  to  Edith,  would  use  her  in- 
fluence with  her  son  and  with  othei-s  to  push  his  fortunes. 
Would  she  then,  could  she — she  the  "  admired  of  all  admir- 
ers," consent  to  link  her  fate  with  one  who  had  nothing  toofier 
her  but  a  heart,  he  hoped  he  might  say  without  presumption, 
not  quite  unworthy  of  her — but  a  lot,  in  a  worldly  point  of 
view,  totally  so  ?  Edith  smiled  through  her  happy  tears,  and 
said  it  might  be  foolish,  but  she  was  so  glad  that  he  was  not 
rich,  selfishly  glad,  for  her  own  sake  only  ;  for  the  wife  of  a  poor 
man  had  so  many,  so  very  many  more  ways  of  proving  her  love 
than  the  wife  of  a  rich  man  could  possibly  hare.  At  this,  Lan- 
caster caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  with 
an  ardour  that  might  have  crushed  so  fragile  a  form,  had  she 
not  had  such  a  strong  bulwark  of  love  around  her  own  heart. 

"  Then,"  cried  he,  "  I  may  speak  to  the  Archdeacon,  and 
to  Mrs.  Dunbar  ? " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  361 

"  No,"  said  she,  with  what  would  have  been  a  slight  frown 
but  that  it  was  instantly  dispelled  by  the  brightest  of  smiles  ,* 
"  generally  speaking,  I  have  a  horror  of  anything*  clandestine ; 
but  as  the  Archdeacon  would  never  give  his  consent,  were  it 
necessary — which,  thank  Heaven  !  it  is  not — and  as  poor  dear 
grandmamma  would  ask  me  at  least  fifty  times  a  day  when  we 
were  to  be  married,  I  don't  see  the  use  of  telling  either  of  them, 
till  you  are  in  a  position  to  marry  ;  more  especially  as  I  am, 
what  I  suppose  Mr.  Albert  Smith  would  call  '  an  old  young 
lady,'  being  two-and-twenty,  and  therefore  my  own  mistress." 

"  jNIy  own  love  is  right,"  replied  her  affianced  husband. 
"  Communicating  our  engagement  to  them,  so  long  beforehand, 
would  only  be  subjecting  j^ou  to  ceaseless  annoyance ;  but  you 
loill  let  me  tell  that  dear,kind  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  of  it,  won't 
you,  for  she  takes  such  an  interest  in  you  ?  " 

"  jSTo,  I  will  not  let  you  tell  her.  I  will  tell  her  of  it  myself; 
for  she  has  been  so  very  kind  to  me  that  I  think  it  is  the  least  I 
can  do,  as  there  is  nothing  so  ungracious  as  deputy  thanks,  or 
so  hollow  and  questionable  as  the  gratitude  that  cannot  speak 
for  itself,  but  employs  a  proxy.  I  remember  Alciphron  Murray 
once  gave  himself  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and,  what  to  him  was 
an  infinitely  greater  sacrifice,  subjected  himself  to  all  the  coarse 
rebuffs  one  is  sure  to  encounter  in  this  Christian  country,  if  one 
presumes  to  ask  any  one  to  help  one  in  serving  a  fellow-crea- 
ture. Well,  Murray  took  all  this  trouble  in  trying  to  get  a 
young  gentleman  a  commission ;  and  the  said  young  gentle- 
man's '  mamma '  did  all  the  thanks,  after  the  usual  set,  ready 
cut-and-dried,  established  tariff:  but  the  young  gentleman  him- 
self did  not,  like  Cardinal  Beaufort,  '  die '  and  make  no  sign, 
but  he  lived,  and  made  no  sign." 

" '  Que  voulez  vous  ? '  as  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  says  ; 
"  we  are,  God  bless  us  !  the  vvorst-raannered  and  most  prickly- 
pear  sort  of  people  in  the  world." 

"  Which,"  rejoined  Edith,  "  must  arise  from  torpidity,  not 
to  say  total  absence  of  feeling  ;  for  although  it  is  not  given  to 
16 


362  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

every  one  to  have  poTislied,or  even  suave  and  amiable  manners, 
yet  it  is  given  to  every  animal,  even  including  those  who  are 
denied  the  power  of  speech,  to  evince  feeling,  where  any  exists. 
But  1  have  always  remarked  that  if  you  render,  or  try  to  render 
an  English  person  a  service,  they  immediately  freeze  up  into  a 
stand-off  rigidity  of  manner,  as  if  your  secret  motive  must  be 
either  to  injure  them,  or  from  a  selfish  and  sinister  design ;  and 
they  were  determined  to  show  you  that  they  saw  through  and 
resented  your  motive,  notwithstanding  the  apparent  disinterest- 
ed kindness  of  your  actions." 

"  All  this  arises,  my  own  Edith,  from  the  narrow,  sectarian 
compression  of  all  our  systems  of  education.  Instead  of  trying 
to  expand  the  affections,  which  are  naturally  only  too  much 
prone  to  the  narrowing  influence  of  co^jcentration,  everything  is 
done  to  contract  them  :  oneself  and  07ie^s  family,  that  is  our 
creed.  And  with  this  little  restricted  circle,  we  are  actually 
taught  to  consider  that  our  world  ends.  The  fault  perhaps  ori. 
ginates  with  the  clergy,  who,  after  they  have  (to  borrow  Gib- 
bon's expression)  been  '  steeped  to  the  eyes  in  port  and  preju- 
dices among  the  monks  of  Oxford,'  and  they  take  orders,  think 
it  necessary  to  elongate  into  petrified  sticks.  All  kindness  to- 
wards— all  consolation  to — all  communing  ivith — the  living, 
(save  in  a  mundane  and  conventional  manner)  seem  to  be  ex- 
cluded from  their  rubric.  '  The  visitation  of  the  sick,  and  the 
burial  of  the  dead,'  they  of  course  attend  to,  as  the  Book  of 
Common  Prayer  ordains,  and  as  the  salary  they  receive  exacts ; 
but  that  they  should  teach  the  living  how  to  live,  and  to  cheer 
the  weary  uphill  road  of  life,  by  occasionally  helping-  them  to 
bear  their  burdens,  never  seems  (with  a  few  rare  and  radiant 
exceptions)  to  enter  into  their  covenant  or  their  contemplation. 
While  this  state  of  things  exists,  missions  may  multiply  and 
churches  culminate ;  but  still,  in  the  wide  and  only  real  accep- 
tation of  the  term,  we  are  7iot  Christians.  For,  verily,  to  freeze 
up  the  warm  catholic  sympathies  of  Christianity  into  sectarian 
segments,  and    trite,  tag  Methodist  hymn-book  quotations,  is 


'      BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  363 

blaspbe-my  against  its  Divine  foimder;  who  while  on  earth  fused 
His  Godhead  into  beneficent  deeds;  humanised  all  His  precepts 
through  social  intercourse  with  the  poor  sinners  whom  he  had 
come  to  save  ;  and  made  Truth  lovely  by  example  ! " 

'  "  Harold,  dear  Harold  !  "  said  Edith,  looking  into  her  lover's 
eyes  with  her  whole  soul,  so  as  to  meet  his,  "  why  do  you  not 
take  orders?" 

"  Because,"  said  he,  "  I  myself  require  teaching,  and  there- 
fore am  not  fit  to  teach." 

"  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  you  are  fit  to  teach,  for  you  know 
s.\i(].feel  the  truth  ;  and  when  that  is  the  case,  conscientiousness 
must  influence  the  action  of  the  understanding,  and  at  once  im- 
pel and  control  all  its  expressions,  whether  written  or  spoken." 

Lancaster  shook  his  Jiead. 

"  No,  no,  dear  Edith  ;  with  all  my  schooling,  with  all  my 
self-discipline,  I  feel  I  am  still  too  much  the  creature  of  impulse 
to  presume  to  take  upon  myself  the  sacred  responsibility  of  be- 
coming one  of  God's  delegates.  If,  upon  the  whole,  the  mind 
has  received  a  right  bias,  and  principle  has  been  implanted  early 
enough,  and  tended  sufficiently  carefully  to  have  taken  a  firm 
root,  impulsive  characters,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  will  do, 
comparatively  speaking,  little  harm,  beyond  lacking  that  cold 
spirit  of  calculation  which  may  occasionally  compromise  self. 
But  it  is  far  otherwise  in  spiritual  matters ;  for  in  such,  impulse 
is  often  apt  to  be  mistaken  for  a  supernatural  inner  light,  and 
listened  to  as  the  direct  and  authoritative  voice  of  God,  making 
special  revelations  of  unsuspected  truths  and  of  undefined 
duties,  independent  of  his  established  Word ;  and  those  who 
practically  act  upon,  or  even  speculatively  hold  such  views, 
claim  (without  the  sin  of  intentional  presumption)  to  be  divinely 
taught  by  the  mysterious  whisperings  of  the  oracle  within  them. 
And  thus  they  do  not  subject  their  mental  operations,  or  rather 
their  psychological  phantasmas,  to  the  usual  fallibility  of  human 
nature,  but  hold  God  to  be  their  proximate  cause.  Impulses 
are  nothing  more  than  blossoms  which  may  ripen  into  fruit,  or 


364  BEHIND    THE    SCENES.      ' 

may  be  blighted  and  scattered  by  a  single  adverse  breath  ;  but 
they  are  blossoms  which  invariably  spring  from  one  root,  and 
that  root  is  enthusiasm  ;  for  cold  characters  have  no  impulses. 
And  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  enthusiasm  is  the  substratum  of  my 
nature,  I  should  fear,  that  were  I  to  erect  a  temple  to  the  living 
God  upon  so  volcanic  a  basis,  it  might  explode  into  fenaticism, . 
— and  instead  of  the  pure,  steady  flame  of  that  sacred  fire  which 
should  alone  burn  on  his  altars,  it  might  fling  up  to  Heaven, 
in  lurid  and  fitful  bursts,  only  the  bituminous  smoke  of  intem- 
perate zeal,  and  the  molten  lava  of  fused,  but  still  burning  pas- 
sions." 

"  No,  no, — not  so,  Harold  :  forewarned,  fore-armed.  Know- 
ing as  you  do  your  own  tendency  to  enthusiasm,  you  would 
keep  a  constant  watch  over  yourself,  that  this  source  of  all 
right  and  noble  feelings  should  not  degenerate  into  fanaticism  ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  possible  to  do  God's  work  with 
too  much  zeal.  And  yet,  perhaps,  I  am  selfish  in  urging  you 
to  enter  a  profession  for  which  /  think  you  eminently  fitted ;  for 
to  me,  I  doa't  deny  but  it  would  be  a  foretaste  of  Paradise  to 
go  to  Heaven  hand-in-hand  with  you  ;  to  hear,  as  God's  Sab- 
bath came  round,  from  your  lips  those  blessed  promises  which 
you  could  not  indeed  make  more  divine,  but  which  (at  least  to 
me)  you  would  make  more  intelligible, — for,  coming  from  you, 
they  would  go  straight  to  my  heart.  And  then,  too,  dear  Har- 
old !  to  think  that  your  labours  would  also  be  mine, — your  goal 
my  goal ;  our  hopes  one,  our  joys  one,  our  fears  none!  Not  as 
it  is  in  this  weary  work-a-day,  hollow,  false,  disappointing  world, 
where  all  men's  avocations  tend  to  lead  them  farther  and  far- 
ther from  God  and  Nature,  and  to  loosen  those  ties  which  their 
joint  wisdom  and  omniscience  have  bound.  Could  not  the 
Duke  of  Liddesdale  give  you  a  living  ? — and  with  that,  and  the 
£300  a-year  you  already  have,  and  my  few  paltry  thousands 
saved  from  the  wreck,  we  should  be  rich — passing  rich,  dear 
Harold,  in  a  quiet  parsonage,  away  from  this  great  boiling,  bub- 
bling-, toil-and-trouble  cauldron  of  a  town  I  " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  365 

"  And  ivould  my  own  queen-like  Editb,  my  pearl  of  pearls, 
my  fourth  Grace,  and  my  tenth  Muse,  leave  this  vast  orbed, 
where  she  shines  out  so  resplendently,  to  shroud  herself  in  the 
nebula  of  my  lowly  fortunes,  in  some  obscure  village  ? — could 
she  leave  all  this  for  my  sake  ? " 

"  Harold  ! "  replied  Edith,  looking  with  holy  earnestness  up 
into  his  face, — "  when  w^e  quit  the  fever  and  turmoil  of  earth  for 
the  soul's  eternal  home,  you  know  we  take  nothing  with  us  but 
that  soul ;  that  is  indeed  all  I  have  to  bring  you  :  but  it  is 
yours  ;  therefore,  what  think  you  I  shall  have  to  regret  here  ?  " 

"  Edith  !  my  own,  ow^n  Edith  ! "  cried  he,  again  pressing 
her  to  his  heart,  "  if  ever  soul  went  ready  angeled  to  heaven  it 
will  be  yours  ;  and  I  have  but  one  prayer,  that  mine  may  be 
there  before,  to  witness  its  bright  advent." 

Here  their  conference  was  interrupted  by  a  carriage  stop- 
ping at  the  door;  and  immediately  after,  the  Archdeacon's 
sonorous  "  a-hemming !  "  was  heard  upon  the  stairs. — Edith 
seated  herself  at  her  embroidery  frame,  and  Lancaster  took  up 
his  hat,  ready  to  depart.  A  shght  frown  knit  Samuel  Pan- 
muir's  brow  upon  finding  him  tete-a-tete  with  his  cousin  ;  but 
she  quickly  dispelled  it  by  asking  him  if  he  could  let  her  have 
the  carriage  to  go  as  far  as  Carleton  Gardens,  as  she  wanted  to 
see  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale  particularly." 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,  it  is  perfectly  at  your  service,"  was 
the  bland  reply. 

And  leaving  Mr.  Lancaster  to  the  pleasure  of  the  Archdea- 
con's society,  she  quitted  the  room,  and  was  not  long  in  getting 
ready  for  her  drive.  She  found  the  Duchess  not  only  at  home, 
but  alone  in  her  boudoir ;  and  kind  as  usual.  When  Edith, 
with  some  hesitation  and  many  blushes,  had  confided  to  her 
the  one  great  secret  of  her  life,  a  gleam  of  radiant  satisfaction 
for  a  moment  shot  across  the  matron's  handsome  face,  as  if 
cordially  participating  in  her  young  friend's  happiness  ;  but  sud- 
denly she  sighed,  and  shook  her  head,  saying — 

"  Well,  there  is  an  end  of  my  castle  that  I  have  been  build- 


3G6  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ing, — for,  as  I  have  often  said,  I  should  be  the  happiest  of  mo- 
thers if  Liddesdale  was  just  such  another  exemplary  being  as 
Harold  Lancaster ;  and  it  may  be  motherly  partiality,  but  I 
really  do  think  he  is  almost  as  good.  I  have,  at  the  same 
time,  said  I  should  like  him  to  have  just  sucli  a  wife  as  Edith 
Panmuir  ;  for  you  know,  ray  dear  child,  those  who  have  much 
would  always  have  more." 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  duchess,"  laughed  Edith,  "  w^ere  you  a  Lon- 
don mother — which  you  are  not — I  should  think  that  in  the 
delight  of  your  son  having  escaped  the  fataUty  of  making  so 
bad  a  match,  you  did  not  mind  stretching  a  point  to  flatter  a 
silly  girl's  vanity  :  but  as  I  know  you  to  be  sincerity  itself,  or  I 
could  not  love  you  as  I  do,  you  have  done  much  more,  for  you 
have  flattered  my  heart ;  and,  in  return,  I  hope  your  son  may 
have  a  wife  in  every  way  more  worthy  of  him.  and  who  will 
find  as  much  favour  in  your  indulgent  eyes  as  I  have  done." 

"  Amen  !  "  responded  the  Duchess.  "  And  now  what  is 
to  be  done  for  Lancaster,  to  prop  up  his  poor  little  £300  a 
year  ? — which,  like  all  non-eating  young  ladies  in  love,  you 
seem  to  think  possesses  the  elastic  properties  of  extending  over, 
and  sufficino'  for  all  imao-inable  wants,  and  all  unimaginable 
exigencies." 

"  I  know  it  would  for  mine,  and  I  think  it  would  for  his," 
said  Edith. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,  child,  for  men  are  exigeants  animals  on 
the  score  of  finance.  A  woman's  wants  7nay  be, — though  for 
the  honour  of  m}^  sex  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  they  rarely  are 
compressed  into  a  nutshell ;  whereas,  a  man's  are  generally 
diftused  over  a  world.  But  what  are  your  wishes  for  Lancas- 
ter ?  that  I  may  make  them  known  to  Liddesdale.  And  I'm 
sure  he'll  do  all  he  can  to  forward  them." 

"  My  great  wish,  I  own,  is,"  replied  Edith,  "  that  he  should 
go  into  the  Church ;  but  he  objects,  from  conscientious  scru- 
ples." 

"  Well,  then,  those  are  things  that  we  must  not  meddle  with. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  367 

much  less  force  ;  so  now  think  of  something  else  :  a  commis- 
sionership  of  Excise  ;  a  lordship  of  the  Admiralty  !  Would 
anything  of  that  kind  do  ?  " 

"  Dear  duchess,  how  kind,  how  considerate  you  are  !  "  said 
Edith,  raising  her  hand  to  her  lips,  as  her  own  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  '•  I  know  the  proverb,  that  beggars  must  not,  at  least, 
that  they  ought  not,  to  be  choosers  ;  and  yet,  anything  that 
would  take  us  out  of  London  I  should  prefer  ;  for  it  appears  to 
me  that  in  this  great  Babylon  no  woman  can  hope  to  retain 
more  than  a  very  homoeopathic  particle  of  her  husband's  heart." 

"  Very  well  then,  little  miser !  as  you  want  to  monopolize 
the  whole  of  that  conjugal  Eldorado,  I  think  we  had  better  ^a; 
upon  nothing,  but  leave  the  matter  entirely  to  Liddesdale  who, 
I  know,  will  not  be  wanting,  either  in  zeal  or  generosity." 

Edith  thought  so  too  ;  and  after  a  prolonged  conversation, 
the  friends  separated,  but  only  to  meet  the  more  frequently. 
And  that  autumn  the  Duchess  took  Edith  on  a  little  Continen- 
tal tour  with  her  to  the  German  spas  :  Harold  Lancaster  was, 
of  course,  their  cavaliero,  as  the  young  duke,  his  mother  said, 
was  very  busy  in  Scotland,  superintending  the  improvements  he 
was  making  at  Glenfern.  The  trio  wintered  in  Paris,  and  being 
now  domiciled  together,  Edith  and  her  intended  had  the  satis- 
faction of  daily  finding  that  their  maturer  judgment  more  and 
more  approved  the  choice  their  hearts  had  so  spontaneously 
made. 


SECTION  XV. 

"  His  secret  is  with  the  righteous. — Fi'ov.  iil.  82. 

"Nature,  and  time,  and  earth  and  skies, 
Thy  lieavenly  skill  proclaim ; 
"What  shall  we  do  to  make  us  wise 
But  learn  to  read  Thy  name !  " 

"  As  on  the  rock  the  Pharos  gleams  above. 
So  o'er  life's  sea  still  glows  a  mother's  love." 

"  Love  is  a  circle,  and  an  endless  sphere ; 

From  good  to  good,  revolving  here  and  there." 

Herrick. 
"Set  high  in  spirit,  with  the  precious  taste 

Of  sweet  philosophy." 

As  the  Archdeacon  decidedly  disapproved  of  Mr.  Lancaster's 
"  infesting  his  house/'  as  he  expressed  it ;  and  was,  moreover, 
angry  with  Edith  for  having  "  managed  so  badly  "  as  not  to 
have  contrived  in  some  way  or  other,  to  have  lured  the  Duke 
of  Liddesdale  to  Paris,  during  the  winter  she  had  passed  there 
with  his  mother  ;  the  lovers  were  perforce  obliged  to  have  most 
of  their  meetings  at  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale's.  Edith  had 
been  spending  the  day  with  her,  specially  invited  to  do  so,  as 
she  expected  her  son  to  arrive  in  town  that  evening,  and  was 
anxious,  as  she  said,  to  present  him  to  Edith  ;  Harold  Lancaster 
was  to  mnke  the  quartet.  But  as  accidents  will  happen  in  the 
best  regulated  families,  so  in  like  manner  will  misunderstand- 
ings between  the  hest  regulated  lovers ;  and  Edith  had  been  at 


BJEHIND    THE    SCENES.  369 

a  cUjeuner  at  Lady  Larpingham's,  Cecil  Trevylian's  mother,  at 
Twickenham,  the  day  before,  where  Harold  had  not  been,  and 
some  d — d  good-natured  friend  (of  which  there  are  alw^ays 
plenty)  had  told  him  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  lezejiance, 
by  being  in  excellent  spirits,  and  having  twice  danced  with 
Trevylian ;  consequently  the  whole  of  this  day  Lancaster  had 
riveted  his  large,  eloquent  eyes  upon  hers — not  angi-ily,  certainly, 
in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term,  but  sorrowfully  and  re- 
proachfully, which  is  love's  worst  anger.  The  evening  sun  was 
now  sinking  into  its  crimson  bed  in  the  west,  and  its  departing 
rays,  streaming  like  a  blush  through  the  rose-coloured  silk 
blinds  of  the  hostess's  boudoir — for  it  was  there  they  generally 
sat  when  en  i^etit  comite  ;  the  Duchess  was  busily  sealing  and 
directing  sundry  letters  for  the  post.  Having  now  closed  the 
last  of  her  correspondence,  she  blew  out  the  taper,  and  rising; 
said,  as  she  gathered  up  her  letters, — 

"  Dear  me  !  it's  later  than,  I  thought ;  I  must  go  and  dress 
for  dinner,  for  I  expect  Liddesdale  every  minute.  Harold,  you 
will  make  him  and  Edith  known  to  each  other,  if  I'm  not  down  ; 
though  I've  told  him  so  much  about  her,  and  her  so  much  about 
him,  that  I  should  think  they  were  pretty  well  acquainted  with 
each  other  already." 

She  had  no  sooner  closed  the  door  than,  to  avoid  what  he 
in  reality  longed  for — an  explanation, — (for  lovers  are  the  most 
Jesuitical  creatures  in  the  world) — he  sauntered  to  the  piano, 
and  began  running  over  the  keys  with  a  sort  of  harmonious 
febrile  excitement. 

"Do  sing  me  something!"  said  Edith,  timidly,  without, 
however,  following  him  to  the  instrument,  or  even  moving  out 
of  her  chair.  After  one  loud  and  chaotic  crash,  to  conclude 
the  fantasia  he  had  been  playing,  he  glided  into  the  most  thrill- 
ing and  melodious  symphony,  and  sang,  to  a  charmingly  soft 
and  exquisitely  touching  Portuguese  air,  the  following 
16* 


3*70  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 


"  If  mine  eyes  have  wearied  thee, 

Gazing  j,nto  thine ; 
If  thy  lips  can  smiling  be 

Far  away  from  mine ; 
If  the  voice  that  once  was  deai% 

Whispering  so  low, 
Falls  all  untuneless  on  thine  ear, — 

Tell  me  it  is  not  so. 
"  If  thy  heart  be  beating  still, 

Who  knows  for  whom  it  be  ? 
Let  me — 'tis  my  wandering  will — 

Think  'tis  still  for  me ; 
If  those  blushes  on  thy  cheek 

Can  now  for  others  glow ; 
Look  earnest  in  mine  eyes,  and  speak, 

And  tell  me  'tis  not  so ! 
"  If  I  deceive  myself,  'tis  clear, 

]S"o  others  can  deceive ; 
So  tell  me  all  I  wish  to  hear, 

I  swear  I  will  believe ! 
I  wonld  not,  dearest,  die  of  love. 

There's  sunshine  yet  below ; 
So  look  upon  that  star  above. 

And  swear  that  'tis  not  so." 

Edith  rose,  her  eyes  as  full  of  tears  as  her  lover's  voice  had 
been,  and  walked  towards  the  piano,  no  doubt  fully  prepared 
to  take  the  required  oath  ;  when  the  Duchess's  maid  came  into 
the  room  for  a  letter  which  the  former  had  forgotten  ;  where- 
upon Lancaster  got  up  from  the  instrument,  and  said  in  a 
perfectly  well-bred,  disembarrassed  voice,  suited  to  their  ad- 
ditional auditor — 

"  Now,  Miss  Panmuir,  it   is   your   turn."     She   took   the 

*  This  little  gem,  worthy  of  Herrick,  or  George  Herbert,  or  even 
of  Tennyson,  appeared  anonymously  in  the  North  Wales  Chronicle  of 
December  the  3rd,  1853. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  Stl 

proffered  place,  and  sang  the  reply  whicli  Langly,  the  femme 
de  chambre's  arrival,  had  prevented  her  whispering  to  him  in 
plain  prose — if,  indeed,  the  language  of  love  is  ever  that. 

(Biii.tlj's  long. 

"  I  would  be  near  thee,  but  ever  near  thee, 
Still  watching  o'er  thee  as  the  angels  are, 
And  when  thou  art  sad  be  there  to  cheer  thee. 
As  e'en  in  the  desert  shines  some  lone  star. 

"  I'd  fain  be  the  breeze  that  kisses  thv  cheek, 
And  plays  'mid  the  mazes  of  thy  soft  hair. 
Whispering  the  love  that  I  may  not  speak. 

Save  in  my  soul,  where  it  breathes  in  a  prayer. 

"  I'd  be  the  cloud  that  is  flitting  above  thee  ; 

Oh,  fleetly  I'd  pass,  and  leave  heaven  bright — 
Bright  in  its  power  to  bless  and  to  love  thee, 
Steej)ing  thy  soul  in  its  own  hallow'd  light. 

"  I'd  be  the  river,  Ihe  swift  rushing  stream. 
Bounding  towards  thee  in  every  billow : 
And  I'd  be  at  night,  some  fairy-like  dream 

Of  love,  linked  with  hope,  haunting  thy  pillow. 

''  For  I  would  be  near  thee,  ever  near  thee. 
Watching  o'er  thee,  as  the  angels  are ; 
And  when  thou  art  sad  be  there  to  cheer  thee, 
As  e'en  on  the  desert  beams  some  lone  star." 

The  next  moment  Harold  was  kneeling  before  her,  and  had 
taken  both  her  hands  in  his. 

"  Edith,  dear  Edith,  forgive  me,"  said  he,  looking  imploringly 
into  her  face.  "I  have  been  very  wayward,  very  unjust,  all 
this  day ;  but  then,  like  all  other  tyrants,  love  is  wayward  and 
unjust,  and  yet  I  cannot  dethrone  him  if  I  would." 

"  And  would  you,  if  you  could  ?  "  asked  she,  with  a  pensive 
smile,  the  tender  melancholy  of  which  had  a  slight  tinge  of 
reproach  in  it. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  sure  ;  all  fanatics  are  guilty  of  occasional 


372  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

heresies,  and  there  is  no  such  thing  as  Vamore  dominatore  with- 
out the  amor  geloso  !  being  its  shadow,  and  then  the  very  in- 
toxication of  the  draughts  we  quaff  from  his  kingly  cup,  has  for 
its  reaction  a  sort  of  wayward  madness.  And  now,  ever  since 
the  Duchess  has  said  that  she  so  wished  you  had  been  the  wife 
of  her  son,  horrible  doubts  occasionally  haunt  my  heart  as  to 
whether,  w^ith  such  a  brilliant  position  within  your  reach,  you 
will  not,  at  least  in  secret,  repent  having  linked  your  fate  with 
obscurity  and  me ;  yet  then,  again,  when  I  look  into  that  angel 
face  of  yours,  Edith,  where  nothing  less  true  or  less  pure  than 
Heaven  seems  to  be  reflected,  every  doubt  vanishes  like  a  sum- 
mer cloud ;  all  creation  is  once  more  as  fresh  as  at  its  dawn  for 
me,  and  I  am  again  back  in  that  green  Eden  of  happiness, 
which,  like  the  primeval  one  given  to  Adam,  is  never  but  once 
given  to  any  of  his  descendants." 

"  Naughty  boy ! "  said  Edith,  putting  back  his  hair  off  his 
forehead  with  both  her  hands ;  "  and  don't  you  know  that  in 
no  authentic  Eden  was  there  ever  more  than  one  man.  What, 
then,  are  all  the  dukes  on  earth  beyond  it,  to  me  ? " 

Again  Lancaster  had  seized,  and  w^as  passionately  kissing 
her  hands,  when  the  door  opened,  and  the  Duchess  returned. 
At  the  sight  of  this  tableau,  without  advancing  any  farther,  she 
pointed  to  the  still  kneeling  Harold,  and  said — 

"Edith,  I  think  it  right  to  tell  you  that  that  man,  for  whom 
you  are  so  ready  to  sacrifice  every  worldly  advantage,  has  prac- 
tised upon  you  a  gross  deception." 

Edith,  doubting  if  she  had  heard  aright,  looked  with  a 
flushed  cheek  and  a  flashing  eye  from  the  speaker  to  her  lover, 
who,  upon  the  duchess's  entrance,  had  started  to  his  feet. 

"  Madam,"  gasped  she,  "  pardon  me ;  but  I  could  not  be- 
lieve it  if  you  swore  it."  And  with  her  small,  trembling  hand 
she  convulsively  grasped  Lancaster's  shoulder,  thereby  panto- 
mimically  asserting  that  the  whole  world  might  accuse  him,  yet 
she  would  cling  to  him. 

"I  don't  think,"  resumed  the  Duchess  calmly,  "  that  he  will 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  373 

even  attempt  to  deny  the  fully  substantiated  charges  I  shall 
bring  against  him." 

Lancaster  hung  his  head,  but  only  to  gaze  more  intently 
into  Edith's  face,  who  stood,  as  she  clung  to  him,  like  a  deer  at 
bay ;  her  bosom  heaving,  her  fine  head  proudly  turned  half  in 
profile  towards  his  accuser,  and  her  eyes  at  once  dilating  and 
coruscating  like  meteors  in  a  summer's  night  storm. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  continued  the  Duchess,  "  he  told  you 
his  income  was  three  hundred  a-year ;  and  tJiat  is  false  :  let  him 
deny  it  if  he  can." 

Lancaster  remained  silent. 

"  In  the  next  place,  he  said  that  he  counted  upon  the  good 
ofiices  of  his  kinsman  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale  to  enable  him  to 
marry  you ;  and  that  was  false." 

"Then,  madam,"  broke  in  Edith,  "if,  indeed^  he  has  so 
basely  deceived  me ;  which  still,  notwithstanding  the  roundness 
of  your  assertions,  and — and — his  strange  provoking  silence,  I 
cannot  beheve ;  why — why — did  you  join  in  the  fraud,  know- 
ing it  (as  you  must  have  done)  to  be  such  ? " 

"  Why  did  I  join  in  it,  my  dear  Edith  ?  "  replied  the  Duch- 
ess, advancing  and  laying  her  hand  upon  Lancaster's  other 
shoulder,  "  because,  like  a  foolish  mother  as  I  am,  or,  as  they 
more  comprehensively  phrase  it  in  England,  like  '  such  an  odd 
person !  as  I  am,'  I  had  not  the  heart  to  mar  my  son's  ro- 
mance." 

"Who,,  and  what  on  earth,  then,  are  youV^  cried  Edith, 
relaxing  her  grasp  of  Lancaster,  and  starting  back  in  unaffected 
consternation. 

"  Who  is  he  ? — Why  my  own  dear  Liddesdale,  about  whom 
I  have  so  often  talked  you  deaf;  while  you  were  so  full  of  that 
simulacrum,  Harold  Lancaster,  that  instead  of  learning  my  son's 
perfections  by  heart,  as  you  ought  to  have  done,  you,  I  dare 
say,  ignore  from  the  greatest  to  the  least  of  them.  However, 
as  I  before  said,  I  really  had  not  the  heart  to  spoil  my  dear 
boy's  romance,  however  Quixotic  it  might  be." 


374  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Oh,  no  !  not  a  romance,  my  own  Edith,"  cried  her  lover, 
encircling  her  waist  with  his  arm  and  drawing  her  to  the  sofa, 
where  his  mother  seated  herself  also : — "  not  a  romance,  but  a 
true  history  of  the  truest  affection,  and  the  deepest  and  most 
devoted  love  that  one  human  being  ever  felt  for  another.  I 
loved  you,  Edith,  from  the  first  transient  glimpse  I  caught  of 
you,  five  years  ago ;  when  one  day,  upon  getting  out  of  the 
carriage,  on  the  Place  Vendome,  you  dropped  your  glove,  and 
I  picked  it  up,  and  gave  it  to  you.  I  found  out  from  the  peo- 
ple of  the  hotel  who  you  were.  I,  unknown  to  you,  followed 
you  to  Scotland,  and  there  learnt  the  tragedy  that  greeted  your 
return  home ;  and,  hearing  of  the  melancholy  sale  of  Glenfern, 
I  sent  Tuft'nell  to  buy  it  in  at  any  price,  determined  that  i/ou?' 
home  it  should  still  be,  whether  you  ultimately  consented  to 
share  it  with  me  or  not.  And  now,  Edith !  dear  Edith !  par- 
don, a  full  pardon,  for  all  my  deceptions !  But  from  the  age 
of  sixteen  my  horror  and  fear  of  being  married  for  my  duke- 
dom has  amounted  almost  to  monomania,  and  my  dear,  good 
mother  there  most  fully  participated  in  this  fear ;  and  therefore, 
whatever  she  may  now  choose  to  say  to  the  contrary,  entered 
most  cordially  into  my  plot,  her  a77i{e  d^enfance^  the  Duchess  of 
DijDlomat  being  also  let  into  it  from  necessity ;  but  there  the 
dramatis  personce  ended.  For  four  years  you  know  you  shut 
yourself  up  and  gave  way  to  your  grief.  I  loved  you  the  better 
for  it ;  for  it  was  really  like  finding. living  waters  in  the  desert, 
to  find,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  a  young  lady  with  a  heart ! 
still  more,  such  a  young  lady,  and  with  such  a  heart !  I  could 
not,  of  course,  obtrude  upon  your  sorrow,  nor  would  I  have 
done  so  if  I  could ;  for  I  thought — and  not  without  reason — 
that  suddenly  as  my  love  for  you  had  been  implanted  in  my 
heart,  the  longer  it  there  germinated  in  secret,  the  more  deeply 
was  it  likely  to  take  root ;  and  when  you  began  to  mix  in  so- 
ciety, and  I  never  lost  sight  of  you,  I  then  did  not  think  it  right 
to  impede  your  career  by  a  precipitate  declaration.  Moreover, 
eveiy  one  declared  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  to  be  your  favoured 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  375 

suitor ;  his  name  had  ah-eady  been  re-echoed  through  the  world 
to  the  amount  of  what  some  people  call  fame  ;  while  even  my 
dukedom  was  as  yet,  as  far  as  worldly  sensation  went,  nil ; — 
and  few  women  are  insensible  to  fame.  All  this  was  torture  to 
me ;  but  still  I  had  no  right,  and  still  less  inclination,  to  control 
your  choice,  my  great  ambition  being  to  be  loved  for  myself 
alone :  and  I  need  not  tell  you  the  delirium  of  joy  that  I  was 
seized  with,  when,  at  length,  all  my  torments  were  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  your  telling  that  you  did  love  me,  and  me 
only — a  poor,  penniless,  struggling  man,  as  you  thought.  And, 
oh !  when  you  tried  to  persuade  me  to  take  orders,  and  wished 
for  a  quiet  village  life,  that  we  might  be  the  more  indissolubly 
linked  together,  I  could  not  then  explain  to  you,  that  every  mo- 
ment you  were  more  and  more  unfitting  me  for  the  vocation,  by 
converting  me  into  an  idolater !  which  is  not  exactly  the  fitting 
stufi"  wherewith  to  make  a  Christian  minister.  Still,  with  the 
Sybarite  epicureanism  of  love,  I  wished  to  prolong  the  term  of 
this  ingano  felice^  that  I  might  go  on  convincing  myself  that  it 
was  /  that  was  loved,  the  poor  Harold  Lancaster,  and  not  the 
rich  Duke  of  Liddesdale ;  and,  though  now  tolerably  certain  of 
this  fact,  so  delightful  was  the  probation,  that  I  verily  believe  I 
should  have  carried  it  on  six  months  longer,  had  not  that  good 
woman  there,  insisted  that  she  would  no  longer  be  (to  use  her 
own  phrase)  kept  out  of  her  son.  So,  having  promised  to  dine 
with  her  Grace  to-day  to  meet  you,  I  was  at  last  obliged,  love, 
to  appear  in  propria  personal 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  his  mother,  pointing  to  Edith,  burst 
into  a  silvery  laugh.  "  I'd  give  the  world,  child,"  cried  she, 
"  that  I  could  get  a  picture  of  you  at  this  moment,  for  it  w^ould 
be  perfectly  unique!  as  I  don't  believe  there  is  another  young 
lady  in  Europe,  certainly  not  in  London,  who  would  look  so  lu- 
dicrously blank,  and  actually  disappointed  !  at  her  poor  nobody 
of  a  lover  turning  out  to  be  a  rich  duke." 

"  Well,"  said  Edith — with  that  look  of  physical  exhaustion 
which  great  mental  excitement  always  occasions,  as  her  eyes 


3 '76  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

filled  with  tears,  and  she  held  out  one  hand  to  the  mother,  and 
the  other  to  the  son,  but  looked  up  earnestly  and  almost  sadly  into 
the  face  of  the  latter — "  I  suppose  it  is  very  foolish  of  me,  but  I 
have  loved  you  so  deeply,  so  lavishly,  as  Harold  Lancaster,  that 
I  almost  feel  as  if  I  could  not  love  you  as  well  by  any  other 
name." 

"  Tr]/,  mine  own  !  We  don't  know  what  we  can  do  till  we 
try,"  said  her  lover,  kissing  a  whisper  into  her  ear. 

"  At  all  events,  I  hope  Harold  is  one  of  your  names  ?  "  said 
she. 

"  Not  only  Harold,  but  Lancaster  also  ;  they  are  both  Chris- 
tian names  of  mine." 

"  And  having  so  many  Christian  names,"  put  in  his  mother, 
"  I  wished  him  also  to  have  some  corresponding  Christian  vir- 
tues ;  for  as  1  before  said,  you  know  I  am  what  is  called  in  Eng- 
land, 'such  an  odd  person!'  which  comprehensive  term  in- 
cludes every  deviation  from  the  beaten  track,  from  morality 
down  to  melancholy ;  and  accordingly  one  of  my  oddities  con- 
sisted in  having  a  horror  of  the  early  vice — total  want  of  feeling 
and  principle,  and  sordid  worldliness — imbibed  by  boys  at  our 
public  schools  and  colleges,  and  therefore,  I  resolved  to  save  my 
son  from  this  contaminating  ordeal,  as  I  did  not  want  him  to 
get  on  in  the  world,  as  it  is  called.  I  only  wanted  him  to  go 
well  through  it,  as  the  high,  but  very  miiy  road  to  a  better 
one ;  and  so  far  from  wishing  to  mulct  the  psychological  and 
higher  portion  of  his  nature,  by  the  English  tariff  of  studiously 
suppressing  all  evidence  of  feeling,  I,  on  the  contrary,  wished 
every  good  feehng  to  be  strenuously  cultivated ;  and  although 
never  ostentatiously  displayed,  yet  always  fearlessly  and  frankly 
so.  I  wished  him,  in  short,  to  live,  not  so  much  taking  heed 
what  men  should  say  of  him,  as  of  how  God  would  judge 
HIM.     For,  as  an  eloquent  and  profound  writer*  truly  observes, 

*  "The  reciprocal  influences  of  body  and  mind,"  by  W.  JSTewn- 
ham,  Esq.,  M.R.  8,  L.,  London.  J.  Hatchard  and  Son,  Piccadilly 
1852. 


,BEH1ND    THE    SCENES.  3 '7*7 

"  the  object  of  mental  development  may  be  defined  to  be  the 
closest  attainable  approximation  to  the  perfection  of  an  ignorant 
creature,  which  necessitates  the  zealous  pursuit  of  intellectual 
acquisition  ;  and  also  to  the  perfection  of  a  dependent  creature, 
dependent  upon  others,  during  the  first  years  of  his  existence, 
dependent  upon  the  body  for  the  manifestations  of  his  higher 
faculties,  and  dependent  upon  the  Almighty  Giver  of  all  good 
for  his  moral  principles  and  virtue,  and  for  the  sanctions  by 
which  they  are  enforced.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  watch 
the  combined  agency  of  these  elements  of  mental  character ;  to 
trace  the  gradual  recession  of  the  instinctive  night  of  infancy, 
as  the  day  of  reason  dawns,  and  unfolds  to  our  notice  the  seve- 
ral faculties  of  the  spiritual  mind ;  to  distribute  and  associate 
these  according  to  a  classification  which  shall  facilitate  our  ac- 
quaintance with  human  nature,  and  then  to  hail  the  rising  of 
that  sun  of  perception,  whose  reflected  beams  can  alone  enable 
us  to  explore  the  nature  and  habits  of  the  individual,  his  peculiar 
manifestations,  his  intellectual  aptitudes,  his  moral  principles,  his 
religious  duties  and  obligations  ;  and  let  it  never  be  forgotten, 
that  not  only  will  the  meridian  of  life  be  characterized  by  these 
early  eflforts,  but  that  the  evening  of  our  days  will  close  in  gloom, 
or  it  will  exhibit  the  mellowed  tints  of  a  departing  summer's 
day,  together  with  that  peaceful  and  unrufiied  calm  which  can 
arise  only  from  the  hushing  and  repose  of  the  elemental  storms 
of  passion ;  while  this  organ  must  depend  upon  the  powerful 
agency  of  a  controlling  freedom  of  will,  guided,  governed,  sub- 
dued, originated  even  by  the  soft  whisper  of  religious  truth. 
Thus  then  it  will  be  seen  that  intellectual  culture  alone  will  be 
insufficient  to  form  the  character,  in  all  its  length,  and  breadth, 
and  strength,  and  depth  of  manifestation  ;  for  man  does  not  live 
in  a  world  of  intellect;  his  time  is  not  to  be  exclusively  devoted 
to  the  luxury  of  thinking,  and  to  receiving  or  communicating 
the  stores  of  genius.  Far  otherwise  !  He  is  virtually  placed  on 
earth  as  a  social  being  ;  he  has  relative  duties  to  perform.  His 
talents  have  been  conferred  upon  him,  not  merely  as  a  source  of 


378  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

selfish  enjoyment,  but  as  the  means  and  instruments  of  useful- 
ness, and  of  happiness  to  others.  For  the  use  he  makes  of  these 
talents  he  is  deeply  responsible,  and  he  is  placed  in  such  a  scene  of 
trial  and  probation,  as  that  moral  good  or  evil  will  assuredly  result 
from  their  cultivation,  their-  neglect  or  their  abuse.  It  is  not 
permitted  to  him  to  rest  satisfied  with  any  measure  of  intellec- 
tual attainment,  social  good,  relative  duty,  gentlemanlike  feel- 
ing, or  moral  influence,  while  there  remains  an  attainable  point 
in  advance,  upon  any  one,  or  upon  all  of  these  routes ;  while 
there  can  yet  be  found  on  earth  07ie  individual  to  instruct,  to 
comfort,  to  protect,  to  please,  or  to  improve  ;  or  while  there  ex- 
ists virtue  to  love  and  to  esteem — a  God  to  serve  and  to  obey — 
or  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments.  Convinced,  too, 
as  I  am,  that  the  heart  is  the  root  of  the  head,  and  should, 
therefore,  above  and  before  all  things,  be  duly  watched  and  irri- 
gated with  those  diviner  dews  which  have  descended  to  us  di- 
rect from  Heaven,  if  we  would  have  the  latter  put  forth  any 
good  fruit ;  I  was  anxious  that  m}^  son  should  cultivate  '  the  fair 
humanities  of  old  religion'  first,  and  the  brilliant  heathenism  of 
the  classics  afterwards  ;  for  in  the  capital  of  the  firm,  straight 
shaft,  they  are  an  ornament ;  but  as  ih^  foundation  of  the  edi- 
fice, they  become  a  foul,  dry  rot. 

"  Moreover,  I  wished  him  to  acquire  general  information 
upon  all  useful  and  current  subjects,  instead  of  being  firmly 
grounded  in  universal  ignorance,  as  is  the  case  in  our  English 
systems  of  education.  So  much  for  my  labours  in  the  quarry ; 
but  when  vigorously  hewn,  and  symmetrically  moulded,  this 
mortal  image,  made  after  the  model  of  the  immortal  !  had  to 
be  polished ;  for  not  only  is  manner  totally  neglected  with  us, 
but  that  which  is  of  equal  importance,  tact ;  for  tact  is  to  man- 
ner, what  time  is  to  music — namely,  that  which  makes  or  mars 
all  its  harmony  ;  and  the  clumsy  excuse  so  often  resorted  to  of 
— '  I  said  or  did  so  quite  unintentionally,  and  without  thinking,' 
rather  aggravates  than  allays  the  original  irritation,  as  we  none 
of  us  like  to  be  told  in  so  many  words,  that  our  feelings  are  a 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  3*79 

matter  of  such  total  indifference  to  any  individual,  that  it  is 
quite  a  chance  whether  they  wound  them  or  not ;  and  to  be  very 
good  in  the  main,  but  monstrously  disagreeable  in  manner,  is  a 
sort  of  defacing  of  God's  coin,  that  deserves  severe  reprobation. 
Fish,  flesh,  and  fowl  are  very  nutritious  food,  and  would  be 
equally  so  if  taken  raw ;  only,  in  that  form  they  would  be  very 
revolting  to  all  civilized  palates.  And  now,  dear  Edith,  there 
sits  the  great  work  of  my  life.  I  give  him  to  you  freely,  gladly  ; 
and  in  so  doing  to  you  I  can  offer  no  higher  praise :  and  it  is 
not  for  me  to  eulogise  my  own  achievements,  but  I  hope  you 
will  do  so  in  the  most  comj^rehensive  and  satisfactory  of  all 
w^ays,  by  telling  me  this  day  ten  years  that  you  think,  nay,  that 
you  are  sure  that  I  have  succeeded  in  the  great  work  I  under- 
took." 

Edith's  only  reply  was  to  throw  her  arms  round  her  mo- 
ther's neck  ;  for  such  she  felt  she  really  was ;  and  as  her  head 
rested  on  that  faithful  bosom,  shedding  tears  of  deep  happiness, 
the  little  Sevres  china  imidule  on  the  mantelpiece  chimed  the 
hour  of  eight,  and  before  it  had  finished  striking,  dinner  was 
announced,  and  this  intensely  happy  trio  descended  to  the  din- 
in  o'-room. 


Cljx  Mulls,  t\}t  f  tel],  m\!s  t|«  ^M, 

SECTION  XVI. 

"  Te  have  need  of  patience." — Seb.  s.  86. 

"  What  is  a  jewel,  if  it  be  not  set 
Forth  by  a  ring  or  some  rich  carcanet  ? 
But  being  so,  then  the  beholders  cry — 
See,  see,  a  gem  as  rare  as  Bselus'  eye ; 
Then  public  praise  does  run  upon  the  stone, 
For  a  most  rich,  a  rare,  a  precious  one ; 
Expose  your  jewels,  then,  unto  the  view. 
That  we  may  praise  them,  or  themselves  prize  you; 
Virtue  conceaVd,  Avith  Horace  you'll  confess, 
Differs  not  much  from  drowsy  slothfulness." 

Her  rick  to  Mildmay^  Earl  of  Westmoreland. 

"  Multo  putans,  fortemque  animo  miseratus  iniquam.' 

It  was  astonishing ! — or  rather  it  was  not  at  all  astonishing — what 
a  run  the  Liddesdale  romance  had,  (as  the  loves  of  Edith  and  Lan- 
caster were  called,)  among  the  elite  of  Diplomat  House,  and  the 
far  west ;  a  run,  sufficient  to  have  caused  from  jealousy  another 
"Battle  of  The  Books"  in  "The  Row"  and  "Dean's  Yard," 
had  any  spirit  been  Swift  enough  to  have  declared  war  against 
this  usurpation  of  reality  on  the  territories  of  romance.  But 
alas !  if  ghosts  are  sure,  they  are  also  slow ;  so  not  even  a  dis- 
sentient shadow  being  raised  against  them,  the  young  duke  and 
his  beautiful  j^arj-cee  remained  in  possession  of  the  field,  so  wide- 
ly dif event,  in  one  respect,  from  the  famous  Boyle  and  Bentley 
feud  about  the  genuineness  of  the  Epistles  of  Phalaris,  and  the 
Fables  of  J^sop — inasmuch  as  that  nobody  disputed  the  genu- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  381 

ineness  of  the  Liddesdale  title ;  yet  like  it,  on  another  account, 
namely,  that  his  romance,  and  himself,  were  received — not  ex- 
actly in  the  literary  but  in  the  fashionable  world — "  with  a 
tem2^€st  of  applause^^  and  "  wits,  witlings,  poets,  mathemati- 
cians, and  antiquaries,"  or  at  least  antiquities  {yulgo  dowagers,) 
concurred  in  celebrating  his  triumph !  The  latter,  who  had 
warned  their  daugiiters,  nieces,  and  chaperonnees  against  Har- 
old Lancaster,  times  and  oft,  as  the  penniless  scion  and  hanger- 
on  of  a  noble  family  ;  and  the  daughters,  nieces,  and  cliaperon- 
nees  who  had  always  been  engaged  six  deep  when  he  had  pre- 
sumed to  ask  them  to  dance,  now  had  but  one  spontaneous  re- 
miniscence of  what  a  delightful!  young  man  they  had  always 
thought  him  ;  and  the  young  ladies  more  especially — in  defi- 
ance of  all  maidenly  modesty  and  their  former  coldness^went 
so  far  as  to  openly  declare,  that  on  this  side  Elysium  at  least, 
whatever  there  might  be  on  the  other,  there  were  no  such 
whiskers  as  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale's ;  and  even  Archdeacon 
Panmuir  made  one  grand  solitary  eflfort  of  memory,  and  recol- 
lected (which  nobody  else  could  assist  him  in,  or  give  him  the 
slightest  clue  towards  doing)  how  much  he  had  always  liked 
and  encouraged  Mrs.  Lancaster ;  while  Mrs.  Dunbar,  when  the 
romance  was  read  to  her  by  Edith,  said,  with  a  very  innocent 
and  pardonable  little  chuckle, — 

"  Well,  my  dear,  didn't  I  always  tell  you  from  the  'first 
night  that  I  saw  him  at  the  play — and  that  he  was  so  kind  and 
attentive  to  me — what  a  nice  young  man  he  was  I  Eh,  well, 
deary  me !  deary  me !  and  to  think  that  we  shall  all  be  at  dear 
old  Glenfern  again  !  I  knew  good  would  come  of  it  when  he 
picked  up  your  glove,  it  was  so  like  poor  Lovat  and  my  rose- 
bud. I  don't  know  why  I  did  not  marry  him,"  continued  the 
poor  old  lady,  wandering  back  into,  and  losing  herself  amid  the 
dim  twilight  of  the  far  past ;  "  did  I  refuse  him,  or  did  he  ask 
me  ?  or  was  it  because  Alciphron  Murray  could  not  marry 
poor  Mary  ?  And  then  the  wind  always  howled  so  mournfully 
round  that  eastern  turi-et ;  and  Donald  is  a  naughty  bairn,  for 


382  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

he  does  nothing  but  steal  my  letters  to  make  tails  for  his  kite ; 
and  I  tell  hira  some  day  it  will  fly  away  with  him,  and  then  we 
shall  all  be  in  Heaven  together ;  therefore,  Samuel  Panmuir 
need  not  say  we  shan't,  for  I  know  we  shall :  so,  Bridget,  put 
me  out  my  pansy-coloured  padusay,  foi"  the  ball — and " 

But  here  the  old  lady's  murmuring  became  inarticulate,  and 
her  head  having  fallen  to  the  side  of  her  easy  chair,  she  was 
soon  in  a  calm  but  profound  sleep,  while  Edith  sat  beside  her, 
and  watched. 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  who  had  always  hated  the  Duke  of 
Liddesdale,  now  rejoiced  that  he  had  not  expressed  that  hatred 
too  loudl}^,  though  it  was  by  no  means  abated,  but  quite  the 
reverse.  While  Mr.  Benaraby,  on  the  contrary,  rejoiced  that 
he  had  always  said  how  handsome  he  thought  him ;  and  only 
wished  now,  that  he  had  cultivated  him  more  assiduously.  In- 
deed in  his  present  state  of  political  nullity,  he  was  at  a  loss  to 
cultivate  something,  but  was  undecided  whether  that  something 
should  be  a  ground  plot,  or  a  government  plot ;  but  most  pro- 
bably the  former,  as  he  had  simultaneously  acquired  a  small 
landed  property,  and  lost  his  office.  At  times,  too,  his  thoughts 
loomed  into  the  arena  of  literature,  that  Tusculum  in  which 
most  disappointed  politicians  enjoy  (?)  the  otiimi  cum  dignitate 
of — an  inevitable  necessity.  There,  too,  it  was  easier  to  aston- 
ish the  natives,  by  making  such  a  plunge  either  into  the  streams 
of  Castaly,  or  the  Slough  of  Despond,  as  must  splash  up  a  sen- 
sation !  and  had  there  not  been  a  splendid  discovery,  or  rather 
recovery  of  the  Digamma,  lost  out  of  the  Greek  alphabet  for 
more  than  two  thousand  years,  what  if  he  were  to  come  out 
strong,  with  the  miraculous  discovery  of  the  real  origin  of  the 
Dove  being  the  armorial  symbol  of  Babylon,  discovered  under 
a  gold  mask,  found  upon  the  face  of  a  skeleton  at  Nineveh,  and 
forwarded  to  him  by  his  '•'■  oivn  Excavator  !  "  or  as  this  was  a 
decidedly  biblical  age,  perhaps  the  pretended  discovery  of  some 
lost  Hebrew  point,  throwing  a  new  light  upon  the  whole  of  the 
Apocrypha,  might  be  better.     True  there  were  some  very  pro- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  383 

found  Hebrew  scholars ;  well,  and  if  there  were,  what  of  that  ? 
for  one  Chatterton  in  the  leo-ion  of  pretenders  who  is  knocked 
down  at  a  blow,  there  are  fifty  McPhei'Sons  set  up  by  a  puff! 
At  all  events,  throughout  Europe  it  would  cause  a  theological 
and  literaiT  controversy,  of  which  he,  Issachar  Benaraby  !  would 
be  the  nucleus ;  and  the  more  untenable  his  assertions  were,  the 
mete  vigorously  would  be  maintain  them ;  and  if  at  any  time 
somewhat  too  hard  pressed  by  some  heavy  brigade  of  facts,  he 
could  alwaj's  gallantly  lead  the  forlorn  hope  of  his  "  own  Ex- 
cavator." "  Besides,"  added  the  Right  Honourable  gentleman, 
taking  down  a  volume  of  "  The  Encyclopsedia  Britannica,"  and 
carelesly  turning  over  its  ponderous  leaves — for  this  conference 
with  himself  had  taken  place  in  his  library — "  it  would  look 
uncommonly  grand!  in  some  future  Encyclopaedia — ' letter B,' 
anno  Domini,  1854 — to  read  that  'About  this  time,  all  Eu- 
rope was  thrown  into  the  greatest  state  of  excitement,  by  what 
w^as  at  that  period  denominated  The  great  Benarahian  Hehreiv 
Point  Controversy  !  having  originated  in  the  pretended  or  real 
discovery  (for  such,  some  still  incline  to  think  it)  of  a  long  lost 
Hebrew  point,  throwing  an  entirely  new  light  upon  the  Apoc- 
rypha, which  was  asserted  to  have  been  found  by  the  Riglit 
Hon.  Issachar  Benaraby,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  to  Queen 
Victoria,  during  the  Redby  Administration ;  and  learnedly  and 
ably  maintained  by  that  gentleman,  against  all  the  savans  of 
the  day,  for  a  period  extending  over  more  than  four  years,' — 
'  for  a  period  extending  over  more  than  four  years,' "  repeated 
that  gentleman,  reading  over  this  imaginary  article  in  an  un- 
spawned  Encyclopsedia ;  after  which  he  added,  "  and  the  deuce 
is  in  it !  if  I  am  not  back  in  office  by  that  time,  and  this  will 
serve  to  keep  me  before  the  public  ad  interim; — yes,  the  point 
is  the  thing."  And  so  saying,  he  drew  out  the  tails  of  his  coat, 
seated  himself  in  a  library  chair,  and  dii:)ped  his  pen  into  the 
ink;  and  as  he  was  now  coining  to  tlie point  (considering  how 
seldom  he  did  so)  we  will  leave  him  to  pursue  his  studies  un- 
molestedly — as  gulling  the  public  is,  at  all  events,  always  one 


384  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

grent  point  gained,  either  as  a  litt&rateui\  a  philanthropist,  or  a 
politician.  One  thing  was  however  certain,  namely,  that  as  far 
as  its  originator  was  concerned,  "  The  great  Benarabian 
Hebrew  Point  Contuoversy  would  be  far  more  polemical, 
than  antiquarian  or  logical ;  for  invective  was  the  right  honour- 
able gentleman's  inspiration,  and  hot  water  his  element ;  and 
yet  he  took  no  leaf  out  of  Prosper  Calenius'  IM  Ah^d  Bile, 
neither  did  he  in  his  present  undertaking  indeed,  as  Aristotle 
and  Ptolemy  had  done,  the  one  on  his  Natural  History,  and 
the  other  on  his  Almagest — to  spend  unius  regni  pretium! — on 
the  contrary,  he  sincerely  intended  to  reap  a  king's  ransom  by 
it ;  and  this  anticipation  was  by  no  means  so  extravagant,  see- 
ing how  much  cheaper  and  better  Kings  are  now-a-days  than 
they  used  to  be  :  so  leaving  Mr.  Beuaraby  amongst  those — 

"  Who  sleep  in  pyramidic  pride," 

stirring  them  up  with  a  long  bow  !  in  default  of  a  long  pole  ; 
which  latter,  as  a  man  who  had  had  so  many  contested  elec- 
tions, he  very  naturally  dreaded — we  will,  dear  reader,  if  you 
have  nothing  better  to  do,  take  a  stroll  down  Regent  Street, 
that  charming  locale,  which  foreigners,  with  thick  beards,  and 
perceptions  to  match,  religiously  believe,  as  an  article  of  faith, 
ranks  in  English  fashion  where  tljey  have  so  generously,  for 
centuries,  ranked  the  Lord  Mayor  in  English  aiistocracy, 
namely  :  at  le  cime  de  la  sommite. 

The  day  was  fine,  the  heavens  blue,  the  sun  bright,  the 
hour  four  p.  m.,  and  all  Babylon  was  astir,  either  on  wheels,  on 
foot,  or  on  feet — that  is,  walking,  driving,  or  riding — when  an 
extremely  recherche,  well-appointed  cane  char-d-hanc  sort  of 
open  carriage,  with  thorough-bred  horses,  and  the  servants  in 
mourning,  drew  up  at  a  ladies'  shoemaker's.  In  this  carriage 
were  two  ladies  and  two  little  girls ;  one  lady  and  the  two  chil- 
dren in  mourning  also,  and  the  other  not.  The  carriage  was 
Lady  Moncton's,  our  old  acquaintance,  Mrs,  Piers  Moncton  ;  for 
her  husband's  elder  brother,  Grantley,  and  his  father,  old  Sir 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  385 

Piers,  were  now  both  dead.  "  To  be  sure  "  (as  the  present  Lady 
Moncton  had  said,  upon  hearing  the  longed-for  tidings),  "  the 
man  might  have  died  at  some  more  convenient  epoch,  tlian  just 
at  the  very  beginning  of  the  season,  to  cram  one  into  black  at 
such  a  time ;  but,  then,  what  else  could  one  expect  from  a 
father  or  mother-in-law,  but  that,  for  consistency  sake,  even  their 
last  act  would  be  something  to  annoy  one."  The  little  girls 
w^ere  Lady  Moncton's  two  daughters,  Carolioe  and  Mildred,  and 
the  other  lady,  not  in  mourning,  further  than  her  hair  and  com- 
plexion, was  their  governess,  Fraulein  Gothekant.  Children,  of 
course,  are  always  wanting  shoes ;  but  poor  little  Caroline  had, 
somehow  or  other,  more  particularly  put  her  foot  in  it,  to  judge 
from  the  upbraidings  she  was  enduring  from  Fraulein ;  or  it 
might  be,  that  from  the  long  habit  the  latter  had  had  of  vitu- 
perating the  red-haired  Lis  of  the  Edgware  Road,  Corry  1 
command !  and  condemnation  !  were  "  famihar  as  household 
woi-ds  "  to  her,  and  therefore  a  great  relief  to  her  to  utter,  when 
she  had  any  feehngs,  or,  their  synonyme,  tempers,  to  vent.  So, 
having,  on  the  present  occasion,  made  Regent  Street  ring  with 
the  reiterated  scream  of  Corry  !  in  alto,  till  some  sympathis- 
ing itinerant  Irish  echo  actually  seemed  to  reply  the  word 
Sorry,  as  the  little  girl  evidently  was,  the  governess  sank  back 
exhausted,  winding  up,  how^ever,  with  this  assertion: 

"  Oh,  Corry  !  you  are  von  rascal  childs  !  for  you  vill  do 
nussings  vidout  de  battle  pitch." 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Moncton — who  had  been  told  by  Soto 
Mayor,  and  some  others,  that  the  devil  no  longer,  but  angels, 
should  be  painted  black,  she  looked  so  charmingly  in  her  sa- 
bles ! — was  in  high  good  humour  (notwithstanding  Corry's 
"  rascality  "),  as,  indeed,  people  generally  are,  when  they  have 
got  all  they  want.  And,  verily,  this  big  round  world  of  ours 
is  girdled  by  a  plantation  of  "  green  bay  trees  "  of  the  ungodly 
flourishing !  "  And,  lo  !  I  have  often  returned,  and  yet  never 
knew  I  the  time  that  I  saw  them  not." 

The  shop,  before  which  Lady  Moncton's  carriage  had  stop- 
17 


386  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ped,  was  not  large,  but  its  window  was  well  filled  with  all  sorts 
of  dainty  little  satin  shoes,  and  kid  and  velvet  boots ;  looking 
as  if,  even  had  the  feet  for  which  they  were  destined  been  in 
them,  nothing  so  fairy-like  could  have  broken  the  narrow  planks 
of  plate-glass,  on  which  their  arched  insteps  rested ;  and  over 
this  shop-door,  in  gold  letters,  might  be  read :  "  Maurice 
itoBERTS,  Ladies'  Boot  and  Shoe  maker." 

"Will  you  have  the  goodness,  Fraulein,"  said  Lady  Monc- 
ton,  "  to  take  Carry  to  see  about  her  black  satin  boots,  and  I'll 
call  for  you,  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  5  but  I  must  go  back 
to  Madame  Devey's,  for  I  quite  forgot  to  tell  her  that  I  wished 
my  stays  to  be  made  of  white  moire  antique,  and  not  the  com- 
mon moire.  Mildred,  you  can  come  with  me,  as  she  has  your 
black  crejoe  lisse  frock  to  try." 

Poor  CoRRT  quite  shuddered  when  she  found  herself  thus 
given  up  a  solitary  hostage  into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines ; 
for,  sooth  to  say,  Fraulein's  temper,  never  one  of  the  sweetest, 
had  shared  the  fate  of  cream  under  the  influence  of  thunder, 
at  going  from  publisher  to  publisher,  and  finding  that  herself, 
and  her  MSS.,  though  at  first  not  only  favourably  received,  and 
her  propositions  entertained  almost  with  alacrity,  yet,  as  in  the 
instance  of  Messieurs  Hum  and  Balderdash,  were,  invariably, 
fi'om  some  mysterious  counter  influence,  doomed,  eventually,  to 
meet  with  disappointment :  and  these  repeated  abortive  at- 
tempts to  gain  an  independence  by  the  most  legitimate  of  all 
means,  namely,  her  own  talents  and  exertions — when  those 
talents  and  exertions  had  proved  sufiicient  to  swell  the  reputa- 
tion of  one  of  the  magnates  of  English  literature — began  to  tell, 
not  only  upon  her  temper,  but  iipon  her  health.  That  most, 
charming  of  writers,  Izaak  D'Israeli,  speaking  in  his  "  Calami- 
ties of  Authors,"  of  the  ill-fated  Collins,  accounts  for  his  fickle- 
ness and  inactivity  as  "  the  vacillations  of  a  mind  broken  and 
confounded."  Alas  !  how  many  minds  are  there  broken  and 
confounded  under  the  Juggernaut  wheels  of  oppression !  and 
sup2)ression  whose  mutilated  tortures  only  serve  to  level,  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  38Y 

macadamize,  the  world's  high  road  for  their  tyrants,  and  are 
trampled  into  still  further  dust  by  the  uuthinkiug  mass  who 
swell  the  triumph  of  those  tyrants  ! 

"  Dere  !  Corry,  you  are  always  stopping  up  de  vay,  and 
preventing  de  peoples  to  pass  ! "  said  Fraulein,  giving  the  httle 
girl,  who  had  not  yet  even  ahghted  from  the  carriage,  a  no  very 
gentle  push,  by  way  of  impetus,  and  paying  her  this  anticipa- 
tory comphment  of  treating  her  as  a  public  nuisance.  Though 
when  they  did  get  out,  Roberts's  shop  being  next  door  to  a 
music-seller's,  Fraulein  herself  became  a  fixture  before  the  win- 
dow of  the  latter,  humming  over  every  bar  of  the  different 
songs  exposed  for  sale,  and  accompanying  herself  pantomimi- 
cally  upon  the  brass  bar  that  protected  the  shop  window ;  so 
that  she^  in  reality,  was  now  doing  what  she  had  so  prematurely 
accused  poor  Caroline  of  doing  :  that  is,  blocking  up  the  way ; 
only  that  Euglishmen  are  too  sensible,  and  have  too  much  busi- 
nesslike perseverance,  to  mind  little  impediments  ;  so  they  con- 
tinued to  push  on  and  tumble  over  her,  merely  crying  out,  as 
they  did  so — 

"Why  the  d 1 !  can't  you  move  out  of  the  way  ?" 

But  as  she  had  now  got  completely  into  the  inebriated  see- 
sawino-  of  the  "  Briiiclisi,''''  we  shall  leave  her  (as  it  takes  some 
little  time  to  recover  from  an  orgie),  and  penetrate  into  another 
"  segi-etto"  by  entering  Roberts's  shop  without  her.  The  group 
therein  assembled  consisted  of  Roberts,  and  his  wife  (the  latter 
so  transformed  by  a  black  silk  gown  and  white  blonde  cap,  as 
to  be  scarcely  recognisable),  and  their  son  Joe ;  who,  with  a 
very  excited  manner,  was  what  the  sailors  call  "  spinning  a  long 
yarn,"  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand.  His  costume  had  also 
undergone  a  considerable  change,  for  he  was  in  his  Sunday's 
clothes,  and  had  a  dark  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  consider- 
ably too  short  in  the  waist  and  sleeves,  trousers  of  the  same, 
which  barely  reached  to  his  ankles  apparently  afraid  of  going 
farther  and  faring  worse,  as  it  is  always  muddy  in  the  Borough  ; 
his  waistcoat  was  of  kerseymere,  with  a  yellow  ground  and  a 


388  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

flowing  pattern  of  red  brown  leaves  over  it ;  his  shirt  collar, 
which  was  of  considerable  height,  and  the  very  triumph  of 
starch !  rose  all  round  his  neck  like  a  rampart ;  and  his  white 
Scotch  cambric  cravat  had  such  very  long  ends  and  such  tre- 
mendous bow^s,  that  it  looked  for  all  the  world  hke  a  flag,  either 
of  truce  or  victory,  flying  from  the  aforesaid  rampart ;  his  hair 
was  brushed  up  into  a  sort  of  switch  tail  in  front ;  and  his  hat, 
which  had  a  very  narrow  rim,  and  was  rather  the  worse  for  wear, 
came  on  impartially  all  round  his  head,  and  doubled  down  the 
tops  of  his  ears  like  an  avalanche  in  its  descent ;  a  crimson  watch- 
ribbon  with  one  large  seal  and  a  perforated  sixpence  dangled 
from  his  fob ;  and  he  also  sported  a  pair  of  thick  leather  dark 
green  gloves,  with  such  enormous  digital  superfluities,  that  his 
own  fingers  had  no  chance  of  ever  getting  to  the  end  of  them. 
In  short,  hke  those  of  all  common  people,  endimanche,  or  Sun- 
dayfied,  his  clothes  stood  out  from  him  at  a  respectful  distance, 
as  if  they  and  the  wearer  were  mutually  afraid  of  soiling  each 
other.  The  letter  he  held  in  his  hand  was  from  Union  Jack, 
who  had  got  a  fellow  convict  to  act  as  his  amanuensis,  and  was 
written  from  on  board  "  The  Catch  'em  alive,"  then  lying  off 
Southampton,  and  about  to  sail  for  Sydney.  But  the  group 
assembled  in  Roberts's  shop  did  not  end  with  his  wife,  his  son 
and  himself;  there  was  another  person,  almost  hidden,  it  is 
true,  under  a  bale  of  black  crape  and  parametta,  perched  upon 
a  high  shop  chair,  sobbing  violently  at  the  perusal  of  Jack's  letter ; 
while,  half  for  sorrow  and  half  for  support,  her  head  leaned 
against  the  shop  window,  and  her  arm  rested  on  the  counter,  so 
that  altogether,  she  appeared  quite  knocked  down  ;  but  whether 
the  assault  had  been  committed  by  some  cowardly  feather,  or 
by  a  strong  husbandly-looking  thong  of  leather  which  lay  on  the 
counter  beside  her,  is  among  those  innumerable  things  which 
may  be  surmised,  but  never  can  be  clearly  elucidated ;  all  that 
is  certain  was,  that  the  owner  of  this  prostrate  form  was  Mrs. 
Bousefield. 

"  You  see,"  said  Joe  Roberts,  addressing  his  three  auditors  col- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  389 

lectively,  as  lie  gave  a  violent  slap  with  the  back  of  his  right 
hand  to  Jack's  letter,  which  he  held  in  his  left,  "  the  boy  aint 
wish  us  at  heart ;  but  take  a  cherrybum,  if  so  be  as  you  could 
catch  one,  and  send  him,  for  nothink  at  all,  fust  to  one  prison 
and  then  to  another,  amongst  the  scum  of  the  hearth,  and  the 
wishusest  of  the  wishus;  and  you  jist  see,  for  all  he  only  had  a 
head  and  wings  from  Heaven  ven  he  vent  into  prison,  if  he  would 
not  have  enough  to  sit  down  upon  among  the  biggest  devils  for 
the  rest  of  his  life  when  he  comed  out !  that's  all.  Poor  feller  ! 
poor  feller  I "  continued  Joe,  hastily  dashing  the  big  tears  with 
the  back  of  his  hand  from  his  eyes,  his  father  silently  wiping  his 
with  the  corner  of  his  apron,  and  his  mother  fast  making  a  water- 
ed silk  of  her  plain  gros  de  Naples,  while  Mrs.  Bousefield  con- 
tinued to  dilute  her  spirits  in  a  way  that  she  had  never  been 
guilty  of  doing  while  at  "  The  Fox  and  Fiddle." 

"  Poor  feller  !  "  repeated  Joe  ;  "  he  says  as  he's  determined  to 
make  his  fortin  out  there,  and  become  a  spectable  karacter — in 
course  he'll  be  spectable  enough,  if  so  be  as  he  makes  a  fortin ; 
and  then,  we  must  all  on  us  go  out  to  him.  For  my  part,  I  don't 
care  how  soon,  to-day  afore  to-morrer,  for  that  matter ;  provided 
as  I  could  jist  see  that  'ere  precious  rascal,  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  git 
one  good  ducking  in  a  horse-pond  afore  I  started." 

Here  Mrs.  Bousefield  continued  to  ejaculate,  with  great  energy 
and  precipitation,  the  fifteenth  letter  of  the  alphabet,  0  !  0 !  O  ! 
O  ! — after  which  vocal  exertion,  hke  "  Humpty  Dumpty  "  who 
"sat  on  the  wall,"  she  also  had  "  a  great  fall ;"  but  it  was  into 
Joe  Roberts's  arms,  who  had  stepped  forward  to  prevent  the 
floor  from  becoming,  like  a  neglected  garden,  all  strewed  with 
weeds.  The  fact  was,  Hke  a  sensible  woman  as  she  was,  she 
had  been  considering  that  Bousefields,  like  barnacles,  are  not  to 
be  caught  every  day ;  and  that  although  there  certainly  was  a 
great  bathos  in  descending  from  a  butler  to  an  ostler  !  yet  that 
Joe,  now  that  she  saw  him  "  tidied  up^''  was  by  no  means  a  bad- 
looking  man  ;  there  was  even  great  capabilities  about  his  whis- 
kers, if  properly  taken  in  hand ;  it  was  pity  he  was  lame,  to 


390  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

be  sure,  but  then,  lawr  !  the  men  now-a-days  had  such  lame  ex- 
cuses about  not  marrying,  that  it  was  better  to  have  even  a  lame 
apology  for  a  husband  than  no  husband  at  all.  Besides,  now 
that  it  had  turned  out  that  old  Roberts's  patron  was  no  less  a 
personage  than  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale,  who  knew,  but  if  sJie 
married  Joe,  with  her  mdnners  I  and  knowledge  of  high  life ! 
gleaned  second-hand  from  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield's  matricula- 
tion at  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Coddlecat's ;  and  seeing  that 
she,  Mrs.  Bousefield,  was  altogether  a  hettermost  sort  of  person^ 
but  what  his  grace  might  also  set  them  up  in  business,  and  so  the 
splendours  of  some  autumnal  "  Fox  and  Fiddle  "  might  equal, 
if  not  eclipse,  those  of  its  early  spring  !  and  behind  the  bar,  and 
riding  with  her  in  the  chay  of  a  Sunday,  nobody  need  ever  know 
that  Joe  was  lame.  All  this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  had  been 
transmitted  by  mental  electric  telegraph  from  Mrs.  Bousefield's 
imagination  to  her  determination.  And,  moreover,  Joe  at  the 
commencement  of  the  present  interview  having  expressed  his  re- 
pugnant inability  ever  to  resume  his  former  avocations  at  "  The 
Tabard,"  in  which  poor  Union  Jack  had  shared  for  so  many 
years,  Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  an  "  hexperenced  ooman^^''  knew  that 
there  is  nothing  like  propinquity  for  bringing  all  matrimonial  ma- 
chinations to  a  happy  issue,  determined  forthwith  to  place  him 
on  the  supernumerary  list  at  Magnolia  Lodge ;  for,  from 
poor  Florence's  now  rapidly  declining  health,  there  had  for  some 
months  been  a  regency,  and  Mrs.  Bousefield  had  been  invested 
with  absolute  power  ;  and  now  she  became  suddenly  horrified 
at  the  manner  in  which  "them  brats  of  boys  destroyed  the 
knives  and  shoes,  to  be  sure !  whereas,  a  steady,  tidy  man's 
wages  might  be  saved  out  of  their  breakage  and  destruction 
alone;  and  £20  for  one  year,  even  if  she  should  ultimately  have 
to  pay  it  out  of  her  own  pocket,  was  not  dear,  at  the  present  high 
prices  and  scarcity  of  the  market,  for  a  second  husband — thof, 
in  her  widdered  art,  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  must  still,  and 
ever,  be  her  Sunday's  best  !  " 

No  wonder,  then,  that  Mrs.  Bousefield  pitched  and  tossed, 


BEHI^^D    THE    SCENES.  391 

like  a  ship  in  a  storm,  with  agitation,  as  all  these  conflicting 
thoughts  and  fortifications  were  being  thrown  up  in  her  mind  ; 
but  the  cause  (as  is  so  often  the  case),  ignoring  that  he  teas  the 
cause  of  them,  kept  rubbing  down  her  arm  with  an  accompany- 
ing iss,  iss,  iss  !  to  the  great  detriment  of  the 

"  Plentiful  crape  that  encumbered  her  cloak, 
And  bow'd  down  its  beautiful  hood !  " 

"There!  there!  marm,  don't  you  take  on  so,  pray;  or  I 
shall  have  to  get  the  boiling  iron  to  you,"  said  Joe,  jerking  her 
with  a  heave  back  into  her  chair,  as  he  might  have  jerked  a 
sack  of  corn  into  a  hayloft." 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Roberts,  sir ! " 

Now,  in  his  whole  life,  Joe  had  never  before  been  accosted 
with  the  pomp  and  state  of  Mr.  Roberts  !  let  alone  this  rouging 
the  rose,  and  gilding  the  gold,  by  tacking  sir  !  to  it ;  and  ac- 
cordingly he  felt  his  dignity  as  a  man  suddenly  scaling  and 
grappling  with  the  stupendous  heights  of  social  grandeur  1 
which  the  widow  had  opened  to  his  view ;  and  as  half  the  great 
events  in  this  world  do  "  arise  from  trivial  things,"  if  ever  she 
became  Mrs.  Joe  Roberts,  it  was  that  Mr.  Roberts  that  did  it. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Roberts,  sir ! "  resumed  Mrs.  Bousefield  ;  "  when 
you  talk  of  that  poor  dear  prosecuted  *  Jack,  you  may  suppose 
what  my  feelings  is,  has  the  mother  of  six  dear  hinfants,  that 
never  give  me  one  moment's  oTzeasiness  ! " 

And  here  Mrs.  Bousefield  started  off  into  another  hysteric, 
as  thinking  of  poor  Jack,  now  on  the  wide  world  of  waters, 
made  her  naturally  more  at  sea  than  ever  about  her  own  six 
dear  hinfants! 

"Veil,  sureZy,"  sympathized  Joe,  not  very  well  knowing 
what  particular  species  of  consolation  to  administer  as  a  pana- 
cea for  this  "  fell  swoop,"  and  pulling  his  right  ear  with  his  dis- 
engaged hand,  as  a  sort  of  call-bell  for  help,  "  six  to  one  is  a 
great  hodds,  and  no  mistake,  marm." 

*  Mrs.  Bousefield  was  not  far  out  this  time. 


392  BEHIND    THE    SCENE8. 

"  Oh,  has  for  mistakes,  Mr.  Roberts,  the  most  Ae:rperenced 
ooman  may  be  hout  bin  her  reckoning  sometimes,  but  the  feel- 
ings bis  always  the  same,  whathever  comes  hof  it ;  but  I'm  not 
one  to  dwell  hupon  my  hoivn  sorrers,  very  different  from  that 
when  there  his  so  many  hof  bother  people's  to  repose  with  a 
broken  hand  a  contrite  'art  upon  ;  hand  I've  been  thinking,  Mr. 
Roberts,  has  yon  don't  wish  to  return  to  '  The  Tabard,'  which  I 
can  quite  h understand,  for  hit  would  be  similar  the  same  to  my 
returning  to  Oborn,  to  '  The  Fox  and  Fiddle,'  hand  finding  no- 
think  but  a  pack  of  hempty  barrels  and  bottles,  or  props  hau- 
other  ooman,  with  hanother  hisban  !  hand  hevery  hindevidjel 
thing  to  ''arroio  hup  one's  feelings  has  a  wife  hand  widder.  Oh, 
dear !  yes,  I  quite  henter  hinto  your  feelins  in  respect  hof  '  The 
Tabard,'  hand,  therefore,  I  was  a  thinking,  Mr.  Roberts,  that  a 
sittiwation  bin  private  life  like,  bin  a  quiet  famly^  might  suit 
you ;  where  wages  was  not  so  much  a  hobject  as  aving  hof 
your  time  perfectly  to  yourself,  with  nobody  to  border  you 
about,  and  where  hall  the  bells  his  hanswered  by  the  maids, 
hand  hall  the  harrends  done  by  a  boy ;  now,  hif  such  a  place 
would  be  to  your  liking,  sir  (!)  I  can  honly  say  has  you've  no 
hoccasion  to  look  bin  The  Times  noosepaper  for  it,  for  sich  a 
one  is  quite  hat  your  service  hat  Magnolier  Lodge  ;  hit's  hall 
in  a  very  umble  way  to  be  sure, — no  carriages,  no  liveries,  no 
powder,  no  plate — hexcept  just  the  commonest  necessities,  such 
has  spoons,  forks,  a  salver  or  two,  hand  a  few  candlesticks ;  but 
nothink,  I  mean,  of  what  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  hand  I  have 
halways  been  haccustomed  to.  But  still,  my  lady  his  has  good 
a  lady  has  hever  was,  hand  hadn't  orght  to  be  in  that  ere  pokey 
way  neither,  I  can  tell  you,  honly  that  there  his  quite  has  many 
blackguards,  I  call  ''em,  hif  not  more,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  truly 
Sony  to  say  it,  to  be  found  bin  high  life  has  in  low, — such  has 
honly  marries  a  ooman  to  break  their  'arts,  hand  their  haint  no 
jpZeecemen,  nor  magistrates,  nor  nothing,  for  to  pull  them  hup 
for  their  doings ;  hand  has  I  said  before,  I'm  truly  sorry  for  it, 
for  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  and  I  having  halways  been  brought 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  393 

hup  hamong  the  harrystocracy,  hand,  therefore,  feeUng  in  a 
manner  one  on  'em,  from  aving  halways  hvecl  in  the  best  of  sit- 
tiwations,  hits  a  grieveous  thing,  I  call  liit,  when  one  can't  look 
hup  to  them,  hand  his  forced  to  hown  that  there  his  black- 
guards amongst  'em.  But  in  respect  hof  this  here  sittiwation 
hat  Magnoher  Lodge,  you  may  hleeve  me,  Mr.  Roberts,  you'll 
find  nothink  to  do  but  what  I  shall  be  very  willing  to  'elp  you 
hin;  and  many  hands,  as  the  saying  is,  makes  light  work,  and 
two  people  with  one  ^art  makes  a  quiet  ouse ;  hand  has  for 
splendour,  hit  haint  halways  'appiness.  Better  his  a  dinner  hof 
herbs  where  love  his  (not  that  I'm  partial  to  wegetables  myself) 
than  a  stalled  hox  with  contention.  Hand  a  virtuous  ooman  is 
a  crownd  to  her  ^ushan,  which  hit  as  halways  been  considered 
so,  hand  hif  hever  you  should  git  married,  Mr.  Roberts,  it  is  my 
sincere  wish  has  you  may  not  never  be  put  hoff  with  half  a 
crownd — that  his,  with'  han  hindifferent  wife,  hand  thafs  the 
worst  hof  7ny  wishes  to  you ;  though,  '  what  his  man,  or  the 
son  of  man,  that  /  should  have  respect  hunto  him  ?  for  man  his 
born  to  sorrer,  has  the  sparks  flies  hupwads,'  hand  when  he's 
hout  of  breath  there's  a  hend  on  him  ! " 

Luckily  this  was  not  the  case  with  Mrs.  Bousefield  herself, 
who,  though  completely  out  of  breath  for  the  time  being,  yet 
w'as  in  full  vigour  in  other  respects,  though  the  turning  out  of 
her  rag-bag  of  biblical  misquotations,  was  always  an  arduous 
undertaking,  both  for  herself  and  her  auditors :  for  just  as 
threads  and  tapes,  hooks  and  eyes,  buttons  and  bodkins,  shreds 
of  silk  and  patches  of  cotton,  struggled  for  precedence  in  her 
work-bag,  so  did  light  literature,  love,  conjugal  affection,  and 
sacred  and  profane  history,  dispute  the  supremacy  in  her  close- 
ly-packed mind;  and  the  Archbishop  Peckham  was  not  yet 
born,  who  could  have  set  in  order  the  logical  and  grammatical 
nugce  of  either  of  the  two  latter. 

Joe  (to  use  his  own  expression),  at  this  brilliant  harangue,  felt 
for  all  the  world  as  if  he  had  been  fired  !  and  though  there  was 
nothing  like  Troy  about  him,  and  still  less  anything  like  Helen 
17* 


394  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

about  Mi's.  Bonsefield,  yet  this  was  precisely  the  state  of  things 
she  had  been  aiming  at.  However,  as  all  that  he  clearly  un- 
derstood in  her  oration,  was  the  offer  of  a  comfortable  sinecure 
at  Magnoha  Lodge,  he  resolved  to  close  with  that  tangible  por- 
tion of  her  discourse,  and  therefore  said — 

"  Well,  I'm  sure,  marm,  I'm  perticldar  obleeged  to  yer,  and 
what  may  the  wages  be  ?" 

"  Lawr,  my  poor  'ead,  didn't  I  mention  ?  But  I'm  that  ner- 
vous, hand  that  low,  that  I  don't  know  from  one  minute  to 
hanother  the  hups  hand  downs  hof  hanythink.  £20  a-year  his 
the  wages ;  but  has  I  said  before,  Mr.  Roberts,  hit  is  one  hof 
them  sittiwations  has  one  sees  sometimes  in  the  noosepapers, 
but  seldom  hin  real  life,  where  wages  is  not  so  much  a  hobject 
has  bein'  treated  has  one  hof  the  family ! " 

And  here,  Mrs.  Bousefield  cast  at  Joe  such  a  look  of  over- 
whelming domesticity,  as  must  have  made  any  man  less  accus- 
tomed to  horses,  and  more  so  to  the  society  of  the  softer  (?)  sex 
than  Joe  was,  feel  quite  at  home  ;  but  scorning  to  take  advan- 
tage of  a  "  hunpertected  widder  ooman  "  (as  Mrs.  Bousefield 
persisted  in  calling  herself),  by  retahating  with  a  corresponding- 
look,  Joe  took  his  hat  off  the  counter,  and  looking  down  steadily 
into  that,  as  if  he  had  been  gazing  into  a  well  in  search  of 
truth,  said — 

"  Well,  marm,  that  ere  is  wery  fair  wages,  perticklar  as  you 
say  as  there  haint  nothink  to  do." 

"  Oh,  has  for  there  not  being  nothink  to  do,  Hengland  hal- 
ways  hexpects  hevry  man  to  do  his  dooty  !  hin  that  state  hof  life 
hinto  which  hit  pleases  God  to  call  him,  hand  tiiy  plan  for  get- 
ting through  the  world  his  to  love  one  hanother  and  howe  no 
man  hany  think,  '  for  the  Lord  forsaketh  not  his  saints,'  hand  I 
'ave  halways  'ad  '  good-will  towards  men.'  But  '  a  brother  his 
born  for  adversity,' — therefore  ham  I  truly  thankful,  that  I  never 
'ad  no  brother,  though  a  poor,  lone,  unpertected  widder  ooman." 

And  to  show  how  such  are  ^^  put  upon^"^  even  by  the  reptile 
world,  a  huge  blue  bottle  now  lit  upon  Mrs.  Bousefield's  nose. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  395 

but  having  been  very  roughly  ejected  from  thence  by  her  volu- 
minous pocket  handkerchief,  it  took  the  mean  revenge  of  flap- 
ping its  wing  into  the  corner  of  her  eye,  whereupon  she  declared, 
with  a  slight  scream,  that  as  sure  has  hever  her  name  was  Su- 
sanner  Bousefield,  she  was  blinded  for  life,  and  further  requested 
that  Joe  would  have  the  goodness  just  to  look  into  her  eye,  and 
tell  her  what  he  saw  there  ? 

Now,  Joe  never  having  read  "  Tristram  Shandy,"  was  not 
only  unaware  of  the  perdition  that  awaited  him  if  he  obeyed 
the  widow's  orders,  but  was  equally  unsuspicious  of  the  malice 
prepense  that  lurked  in  her  request ;  and  was  just  about  to  be 
caught  in  this  Venus's  fly-trap,  when  Fraulein  Gothekant,  with 
little  Caroline  Moncton,  entered  the  shop,  and  saved  him  from 
so  imminent  a  peril ! 

Fraulein,  like  all  who  have  suffered  in  any  shape  themselves, 
had,  to  do  her  justice,  some  sympathy  with  the  sufteriugs  of 
others  :  so  seeing  the  traces  of  tears  upon  every  face  assembled 
in  Eoberts's  shop,  she  enquired  very  kindly  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, for  most  foreigners  would  rather  at  any  time  be  intrusive 
than  a'pi^ear  unfeeling ;  whereas,  we  Anglo-Saxons,  for  the  most 
part,  would  rather  at  any  time  he  unfeeling  than  seem  intrusive, 
by  mixing  ourselves  up  in  other  people^ s  affairs,  and  perhaps 
getting  ourselves  into  a  mess  !  What  are  other  people's  joys 
or  sorrows  to  us  ? — an  axiom  which,  alas  !  has  become  such  a 
practical  nationality,  that,  notwithstanding  the  superabundance 
of  theologies  amongst  us,  one  is  led  to  fear,  that  in  all  this  reli- 
gion (?)  Christianity  has  perished  in  attempting  to  discover 
the  north-w^est  passage  round  our  hearts. 

Joe,  from  having  poor  Union  Jack's  history  more  by  heart 
than  any  of  them,  knew  better  how  to  condense  it,  and  therefore 
undertook  to  be  spokesman,  merely  suppressing  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars'  name,  which  he  did,  on  account  of  a  look  from  his  fa- 
ther, w^ho,  hke  all  people  beginning  to  get  on  in  the  world,  was 
afraid  of  being  too  candid,  even  about  his  worst  enemy,  know- 
ing that  in  the  present  highly  moral  (?)  state  of  society,  from 


896  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

the  highest  rung  of  the  social  ladder  to  the  lowest ;  it  is  never 
the  doers  of  evil  who  excite  public  indignation,  or  are  accused 
of  violating  propriety  ;  but  only  those  silly  asses,  their  victims, 
who  have  the  bad  taste  to  outrage  public  opinion,  by  complain- 
ing ;  and  "  had  taste,''^  like  "  such  an  odd  person  !  "  includes,  in 
our  vocabulary,  all  imaginable,  and  unimaginable  misdemean- 
ours as  yet  invented. 

"  Poor  leetle  fellows,"  said  Fraulein,  wiping  her  eyes,  when 
she  heard  Union  Jack's  history.  "  It  is  ver  shockings,  ver  shock- 
ings,  indeed  ;  and  I  do  vish  dat  dat  bad  mans,  dat  you  say  vas 
his  faders,  and  dat  gave  him  dis  bad  monies,  dat  first  get  de 
poor  boy  to  prisons — I  do  vish,  indeeds,  dat  he  could  be  veil 
punish,  and  sent  to  Botany  Bays,  instead  of  dis  poor  chiles ;  but 
is  dere  nussings  dat  can  be  dones  for  him  ?  because  I  know  a 
gentlemans  who  have  got  de  influence  vid  de  governments,  and 
I  vould  speaks  to  him  if  you  hk." 

"  Much  obleeged  to  you,  marm,  I'm  sure  you're  wery  good, 
wery ;  but  you  see,"  said  Joe,  "  poor  Jack  is  done  for  now, 
shipped  clean  out  of  the  country,  packed  close  along  with  them 
ere  conwicts,  like  a  set  of  Yarmouth  bloaters,  kind  of  potted 
jail-birds,  like  for  the  Colonies,  where,  I  s'pose  as  they're  con- 
sidered rarities,  ain't  no  rarities  here^  nor  likely  to  be  so,  as  long 
as  they  goes  on  making  prisons  and  penetentiaries,  the  honly 
^er-paratory  schools  for  poor  folks'  children,  and  the  gallows 
the  honly  helewated  sittiwation  as  they  has  to  look  to  poor 
things." 

Here,  Joe  being  frowned  to  order  by  his  father,  added  ab- 
ruptly— "  No,  marm,  I  don't  see  nothink  as  can  be  done  now  on- 
less  indeed  you'd  be  so  good  as  to  get  this  here  gemlen  you  speaks 
of  to  drop  a  line  to  the  gov'nor  out  there,  and  ax  him  to  keep  a 
compassionate  eye  upon  poor  Jack,  till  such  time  as  I  can  get 
out  there  myself  to  look  arter  him,  vich  vont  be  long  I  'ope." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  vill  do  dats  vis  pleasures,  only  you  tell  to  me 
again  de  boy's  names  and  de  names  of  de  sheeps  he  sail  in," 
replied  Fraulein,  taking  out  her  tablets  to  make  a  memorandum 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  397 

of  it ;  but  finding  the  name  of  the  vessel  quite  too  much  for  her 
orthography  she  resigned  the  task  to  the  elder  Roberts,  who 
wrote,  in  a  legible  hand — 

"  A  boy,  bearing  the  name  of  Union  Jack,  aged  eleven  and 
a-half,  who  sailed  from  Southampton  with  a  batch  of  convicts, 
on  the  9th  of  June,  18 — ,  for  Sydney,  in  '  The  Catchemalive,' 
Captain  Swivel,  burden  300  ton." 

Tank  you,  now  de  only  ting  is,"  added  Fraulein,  musingly, 
"  I  don't  know  ver  veil  how  I  can  lets  you  know  vot  dis  gentle- 
mans  vill  do ;  for  I  fear  to  find  your  shops  shuts  on  de  Sunday, 
and  dat  is  de  only  days  dat  I  have  to  myselfs,  to  get  outs  in  de 
afternoons." 

Mrs.  Bousefield,  who  had  with  great  difiiculty  remained 
passive  so  long,  now  stepped  forward,  and  making  one  of  her 
most  circular  and  voluminous  curtseys,  much  resembling  that 
peculiar  species  gymnastic,  w^hich  children  (that  is  little  girls) 
call  a  cheese,  said, — 

"  Hif  you'll  hexcuse  me  taking  of  such  a  liberty.  Mum,  but 
this  his  honly  Thursday,  hand  by  next  Sunday,  I  am  'appy  to 
say,  has  Mr.  Roberts  (here  Joe  w-as  telegraphed  by  the  wndow, 
not  only  with  her  eyes,  but  by  her  thumb,  which  she  now  hoped 
soon  to  have  him  under)  this  Mr.  Roberts,  mum,  will  be  at  hour 
ouse, — Magnoiier  Lodge,  Hold  Brompton, — wdiere  I  shall  be 
most  proud  and  'appy,  hif  you  will  do  me  the  onor  hof  coming 
to  make  hany  communications  habout,  that  poor  dear  prosecuted 
child ;  p?'aps,  um,  you  yourself  his  a  mother  ?  and  this  dear 
young  lady  may  be  yours  ?  hif  so,  I  need  not  tell  you  what  m?/ 
feehngs  his,  has  the  mother  of  six  dear  hinfants,  which  is  hall 
Hke  a  dream,  now,  as  has  hever  been  ; "  and  at  this  point  the 
large  pocket-handkerchief  wiped  the  tears  that  were  in  the  same 
category,  and  Mrs.  Bousefield  resumed, — "  I'm  sure  my  lady, 
(for  I'm  honly  a  servant)  would  halso  be  most  ^appy  to  have  the 
onor  hof  receiving  hof  you,  mum,  honly  er  ealth  is  so  delicut 
that  she  haint  heaqual  to  company  hof  no  kind  ;  therefore 
you'll  please  to  hexcuse  her,  um  ;  hendeed  being  halways  with 


398  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

a  person  bin  her  state,  I  find  very  injurious  to  my  liown  ealth, 
hand  hat  times,  I'm  that  low,  hand  that  nervous,  that  hany  one 
might  knock  me  down  with  a  feather,  hand  hat  them  times,  hit 
his,  that  I  feel  what  it  is  to  be  a  lone  ooman,  band  a  bunper- 
tected  widder ! " 

And  here  she  slammed  two  such  energetic  looks  into  the 
face  of  the  doomed  Joe,  that  had  he  been  physically  jammed 
between  two  church  doors,  he  could  not  have  felt  more  hope- 
lessly transfixed ! 

Fraulein,  though  a  little  mystified,  as  most  persons  at  first 
were,  by  the  diftuse  and  extraneous  matter  of  Mrs.  Bousefield's 
mode  of  address,  gleaned  from  it  quite  sufficient  to  know  that 
she  had  invited  her  to  go  to  Brompton  on  the  following  Sun- 
day, and  exclusive  of  the  good  she  really  wished  to  do  if  in  her 
power,  she  was  delighted  at  the  idea  of  that  much  of  a  drive, 
(even  in  a  closely  packed  omnibus,)  into  the  country,  and  there- 
fore gladly  accepted  the  proposition,  promising  to  be  there  about 
two  o'clock,  p.  m. 

Hearts,  like  plants,  when  young  are  tender,  till  the  sirocco 
of  the  world  has  passed  over  and  seared  them,  though  for  some 
few  select  natures,  (those  bright  exceptions  that  should  be  the 
rule,  but  are  not !)  the  trying  ordeal  of  this  said  infected  world, 
is  but  a  moral  gymnasium,  in  which,  from  constant  exercise,  tlie 
feelings  and  sympathies,  which  are  the  muscular  strength  of  the 
heart,  only  become  the  more  fully  developed,  and  the  more 
equal  to  every  increased  demand  made  upon  their  force,  but  in 
childhood,  this  germ  of  good  is  merely  green,  pliant,  and  ten- 
dril-like, with  small  powers  beyond  those  of  instinct  and  im- 
pulse, and  woe !  to  them  who,  instead  of  fostering  and  training 
these  into  a  deep-rooted,  and  systematic  luxuriance,  warp  and 
stultify  them,  by  irrigating  them  with  the  petrifying  streams  of 
selfishness  and  worldly  prudence  (?) 

Little  Caroline  Moncton's  heart,  having  put  forth  a  sponta- 
neous blossom  of  compassion  for  poor  Union  Jack,  from  the  re- 
cital of  whose  history,  the  tears  were  streaming  down  hei'  little 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  399 

rosy  cheeks,  now  timidly  iipjDfoaciied  Joe.  and  slipping  half-a- 
crown  into  bis  baud,  said, — 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  that  this  is  all  I  have,  but  will  you  send 
it  to  the  poor  boy  that  you  have  been  telling  us  about  ? " 

"God  bless  you!  little  Miss!  that  will  I;  and  may  you 
never  know  the  distress  to  need  a  friend,  let  alone  the  still  great- 
er distress  of  not  finding  one  if  you  should  need  it ;  Lawr !  talk 
of  the  'lectric  teleygrapht  as  a  noo  inwention  !  "  added  Joe,  pass- 
ing the  back  of  his  hand  hastily  across  his  eyes,  "why,  bless 
yer  I  it's  as  old  as  the  world,  for  the  real  'lectric  teleygrapht, 
which  God  made  ven  He  made  the  world,  vos  vone  heart  a 
feeling  for  another,  no  matter  how  far  asunder  they  may  be." 

Mrs.  Bousefield  having  considered  this  truth  of  Joe's,  as  de- 
cidedly personal,  to  herself,  immediately  telegraphed  back  a 
suitable  reply,  and  little  Caroline  having  tried  on  her  black 
satin  boots  which  had  been  found  to  fit  admirably,  and  ordered 
another  pair,  Mrs.  Bousefield  suddenly  recollected  that  she  also 
required  another  "^>?'e  aboots,''^  and  requested  Joe,  "just  to  bo 
so  good  as  to  hunlace  those  she  had  hon,"  for  knowing  him  to 
be  a  judge  of  horse-flesh,  she  thought  a  display  of  her  ankle 
might  not  be  thrown  aw^ay  upon  him ;  nor  was  it,  for  that 
charmed  "  Sir,"  which  was  still  fermenting  in  Joe's  whole  sys- 
tem, and  causing  him  to  rise  (in  his  own  estimation)  like  a 
well-kneaded  loaf,  had  perhaps  something  to  do  with  his  excla- 
mation, as  he  smoothed  down  Mrs.  Bousefield's  black  silk  stock- 
ing over  her  ankle  after  he  had  removed  the  boot — 

"  Well  1  you  be  unkimmen  clean  about  the  hocks,  to  be 
sure,  marm  ? " 

It  is  to  be  supposed  the  widow  blushed,  as  at  this  compli- 
ment, she  hastily  lowered  the  awning  of  black  crape  that  pro- 
jected in  front  of  her  bonnet,  and  at  the  same  moment  Lady 
Moncton  returned,  and  Fraulein  and  her  pupil  took  their  depar- 
ture, the  former  again  promising  to  be  at  MagnoHa  Lodge  on 
the  following  Sunday,  to  report  progress  about  what  she  had 
been  able  to  achieve  in  behalf  of  poor  Jack;  and  Mrs.  Bouse- 


400  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

field  not  a  little  delighted  at  tlie^ea  of  receiving-  a  visit  from  a 
lady  who  "rode"  in  such  a  carriage  !  "heven  hif  she  was  but  a 
guv'ness,  which,  poor  thing,  was  not  her  fault,  has  nobody  would 
be  that  could  elp  it;  but  then  hevery  one  can't  be  ladies," — no, 
and  she  might  have  added,  nor  even  lady's  maids !  or  hack 
horses — or  decidedly  no  one  would  be  a  governess ! 


SECTION  XVII. 

"Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace." — LuTce  ii.  29. 

"Alas !  e'er  since  mine  eye  your  sight  did  miss, 
My  cheerful  day  is  turned  to  cheerless  night ; 
And  oh !  my  night,  of  death  the  shadow  is," 

Eodolph.    "  A  patent  villain  this,  sirs!  with  a  smoothe 
Hypocrite's  elastic,  snake-like  skin. 
That  he  can  cast  at  will ; — not  so  his  venom : 
That  lurkes  ever  'neath  his  tongue." 

Duke.    "  Yet  even  serpents  are  oft  times  caught 
When  they  deem  their  coils  the  tightest." 

Unpublished  Old  Play. 
"  Tour  looks  are  pale  and  wild. 
And  do  import  some  misadventure." 

Round,  round,  round  rolls  the  world !  And  still  the  Fates 
round  the  world  roll  the  motley  yarn  of  human  destinies  !  Al- 
ways owing-  a  grudge  to,  and  spiting  nature  whenever  they  can, 
by  spinning  their  whitest  wool  and  most  golden  tissues  into 
Dreadnaught  and  impervious  coverings  for  those  whom  she  has 
warped  ;  and  their  blackest,  coarsest,  and  most  cross-grained 
threads,  for  all  whom  she  has  more  especially  favoured. 

Mr.  Benaraby  was  still  busy  in  the  iiibrication  of  his  great 
Benarabian  Hebrew  point  controversy  ;  yet,  being  out  of  ofHce, 
he  had  much  to  endure,  more  especially  in  the  way  of  squibs 
and  pasquinades, — his  name  and  race  ;  but  above  all,  his  total 
want  of  political  principle,  being  especially  obnoxious  to  profane 


402  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

jesting.  Multiplex  were  the  similes  of  wliicli  lie  was  made  to 
form  the  2>oint  de  mire  ;  the  opposition  papers  said  of  him — 
"Issachar  is  a  strong  ass,  crouching  between  two  burdens." 
But  as  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  his  strength,  and  a  great  many 
as  to  his  assinine  qualifications,  he  calmly  replied,  that  "  he  saw 
that  rest  was  good,  and  the  land  was  pleasant."  Still,  in  this 
compulsory  rest,  he  felt  that  he  was  no  longer  one 

"Whose  smile  was  transport,  and  whose  frown  was  fate!  " 

But  if  his  most  intimate  associates  were  guilty  of  the  indis- 
cretion of  alluding  to  the  miscarriage  of  his  Budget,  a  slight 
frown  would  knit  his  brow,  and  he  would  reply  with  a  shrug, 
"  It  was  an  admirable  saying  that  of  Lord  Burleigh's — that  he 
'  never  cared  to  see  the  Treasury  swell  like  a  disordered  spleen 
when  the  other  parts  of  the  constitution  were  in  a  consumption.' " 
And  then,  turning  on  his  heel,  with  a  brief  whistle,  he  would 
change  the  subject  by  bursting  into  an  enthusiastic  and  ecstatic 
eulogium  upon  some  new  pudding,  or  new  pantomime,  that  he 
had  lately  encountered  ;  for  well  did  our  Issachar  merit  all  the 
praises  (?)  bestowed  upon  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  by  Wicque- 
fort  and  Dr.  Lloyd,  as  he,  too,  always  surprised  business,  and 
preferred  motions  in  the  heat  of  other  diversions  ;  and  if  he  must 
debate  it,  he  would  hear  all.  The  Spanish  proverb  was  familiar 
with  him  :  "  Tell  a  lie,  and  find  a  truth ;"  flanked  with  that 
other  piece  of  Castihan  wisdom,  "  Speak  no  more  than  you  may 
safely  retreat  from  without  danger,  or  fairly  go  through  with 
without  opposition."  Dexterous  he  was  in  finding  a  secret  and 
keeping  it.  His  conversation  was  brilliant  and  insinuating;  and 
though  apparently  candid  to  a  folly,  was  in  reality  the  quintes- 
sence of  caution,  hermetically  sealed.  "  He  saw  every  man, 
and  no  man  saw  him.  He  would  say  he  must  observe  the 
joints  and  flexures  of  affairs,  and  so  do  more  with  a  story  or  a 
hon  mot,  than  others  could  with  an  harangue."  I  don't  know 
whether  we  can  quite  add,  that  "  his  head  was  so  strong  that 
he  could  look  into  the  depths  of  men  and  business ;"  but  we 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  403 

certainly  may  say,  that  he  also  "  could  divo  into  the  whirlpools 
of  State,"  though  not,  perhaps,  without  his  head  becoming  some- 
what more  dizzy  than  it  originally  was.  His  friend,  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars,  on  the  contrary,  finding  that  in  pohtical  life  there 
was  nothing  but  molework  for  him  to  do,  or  a  subterranean  pro- 
gTess  to  make  that  was  not  apparent  to  the  eyes  of  men,  vigor- 
ously struggled  to  the  surface  upon  the  scum  of  clap-trap — Phi- 
lanthropy, in  the  moral  (!)  and  educational  line,  indefatigably 
giving  lectures,  and  attending  meetings  for  the  promotion  of  all 
popular  questions.  For  as  none  can  touch  pitch  without  being 
defiled,  so  neither  can  any  man  dabble  in  popular  questions 
without,  in  one  sense,  becoming  popular — that  is,  known  to 
the  public ; — which  is,  at  all  events,  the  "  tinkling  cymbal  and 
sounding  brass  "  of  celebrity.  And  this  was,  upon  the  whole, 
a  far  less  arduous  undertaking  than  Mr.  Benaraby's  delv- 
ings  into  Calasio's  Hebrew  Concordance,  and  the  "Divine 
Legation  of  Moses  ; "  inasmuch  as  the  tug  between  Fiction  and 
Truth  is  always  a  much  harder  struggle  than  the  encounter  of 
Falsehood  with  folly.  Fraulein  had  written  to  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  a  most  pathetic  appeal  in  behalf  of  poor  Union  Jack,  re- 
questing him  to  exert  his  influence  in  getting  letters  to  the  Go- 
vernor of  Port  Phillip,  that  would  induce  the  latter  to  interest 
himself  about  the  young  convict.  The  clever  man,  after  reading 
this  letter,  first  crumpled  it'  in  his  hand,  then  flung  it  into  the 
fire,  (for  he  always  kept  up  the  fire,  winter  and  summer),  and 
finally  thrust  it  between  the  bars  with  the  point  of  his  boot ;  af- 
ter which  he  scrawled  three  hasty  lines  to  Fraulein,  assuring  her 
that  he  would  do  everything  in  his  power  to  meet  her  wishes,  by 
serving  that  poor  boy,  whose  history  was  truly  a  melancholy  one. 
This  note  sealed  and  despatched,  he  rubbed  his  hands  and  said — 
"  Come,  I've  got  rid  of  that,  and  she'll  never  be  the  wiser, 
that  I  have  not  stirred  in  the  matter.  Upon  the  whole,  I  must 
say  that  I  am  devilish  lucky  in  getting  rid  of  people  who  are  in 
my  way  ;  and  though  I  have  been  greatly  worried  and  impeded 
by  Florence's  obstinacy,  in  not  letting  me  send  her  out  of  the 


404  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

country,  still  death  must  soon  come  to  my  assistance,  for  she  is 
now  evidently  progressing  towards  his  gates  by  forced  marches." 
And  here  a  change  came  over  the  kaleidoscope  of  his  mus- 
ings, as  he  ground  his  teeth  and  clenched  his  hand.  The  fact 
is,  he  had  turned  into  another  condemned  cell  of  his  own  mind, 
and  was  deliberating  how  he  could,  ifnot  quite  break  ofFEdith's 
marriage,  at  all  events  render  both  her  and  her  intended  as 
wretched  as  possible,  by  some  double  calumny  against  both, 
which  should  eternally  rankle  in  the  mind  of  each.  For  as  a 
renovator  and  reproducer  of  French  plays,  nobody  was  better 
aware  than  he  was  of  the  truth  of  Scribe's  assertion : — 

"  Calomnie !  calomnie  !  il  en  reste  toujours  quelque  chose  !  " 

"No,"  said  he  aloud,  tightly  closing  his  right  eye,  and 
plunging  the  poker  with  great  vengeance  into  the  heart  of  the 
fire,  as  if  had  been  at  a  tournament,  rushing  at  his  foe  lance  in 
hand,  a  mort — "  No ;  it  is  not  so  easy  to  break  off  a  marriage, 
when  a  man  is  so  madly  in  love  as  he  is  with  her.  The  best 
plan  will  be  to  embitter  their  whole  lives  after  they  are  married, 
and  as  a  husband  he  is  more  likely  to  do  my  work  effectually, 
of  torturing  her,  than  any  lover  could  do  ;  and  as  it  is  astonish- 
ing how  much  killing  women  take,  the  process  is  likely  to  be  a 
long  one,  so  I  shall  be  able  to  watch  every  quiver  of  each  sepa- 
rate agony.     Ha  ! " 

And  drawing  a  long  breath  again,  the  clever  man  rubbed  his 
hands  with  satisfaction ;  and  then,  ringing  the  bell,  called  for 
his  hat  and  gloves,  and  sallied  forth  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  the 
necessity  of  moral  training  and  mental  culture  for  all  classes. 
And  thus  Satan,  the  hardest-worked  poor  devil  we  know,  (not 
excepting  the  printers),  was  at  his  old  task  of  "  reproving  sin  1 " 

As  for  the  Venerable  the  Archdeacon  Panmuir,  he  had 
turned  over  a  new  chapter  of  existence,  since  the  prospect  of 
being  cousin  to  a  Duchess  had  opened  upon  him;  and  he  could 
scarcely  have  felt  more  elated  had  he  become,  by  some  com- 
pound miracle,  Bean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's.  There  is  a 
sort  of  mesmeric  phenomena  we  hear  of  in  somnambulists,  who, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  405 

though  ignorant  as  posts  in  their  waking  and  normal  states,  yet 
are  at  these  times  miraculously  endowed  with  the  gift  of  tongues, 
and  speaking  all  languages,  both  living  and  dead,  fluently,  from 
Hebrew  to  Chinese ;  though  when  wide  awake,  ignoring  even 
their  mother  tongue,  beyond  its  most  perverted  vulgate.  And 
with  this  miraculous  gift  comes  to  them,  also,  divers  other  know- 
ledges, of  which,  till  then,  they  were  as  innocent  as  every  "  Brit- 
ish female  !  "  should  be,  who  does  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of 
being  anathematized  as  "  a  strong-minded  woman."  And  ever 
since  the  announcement  of  Edith's  engagement  to  the  Duke  of 
Liddesdale,  the  same  species  of  phenomenon  seemed  to  be  rife 
in  Samuel  Panmuir,  who  entertained,  somehow  or  other,  the 
strangely  infatuated  conviction,  that  he  had  been  the  primum 
mobile  of  the  whole  chain  of  circumstances,  which  had  brought 
about  this  most  devoutly  wished-for  event.  And  his  great  re- 
trospective liking  for  Mr.  Lancaster,  and  his  secret  approbation 
of  Edith's  evident  partiality  for  him,  were  among  the  reverend 
gentleman's  newly  acquired  knowledges. 

Meanwhile,  Edith  was  so  happy,  too  happy  !  as  she  had 
once  said  in  her  delirium  at  Glenfern,  on  the  occasion  of  poor 
Donald's  death  ;  and  she  was  right,  for  happiness  is  an  exotic, 
indigenous  to  heaven  alone  ;  and  when  a  few  stray  petals  are 
wafted  to  us  by  the  sigh  of  some  pitying  angel,  we  eagerly 
graft  them  on  our  heart,  nor  know  till  the  storm  comes  and 
sears  us  with  its  devastation,  what  a  fearful  thing  it  is  to  have  thus 
woo'd  a  blight !  It  was  Edith's  wish  to  be  married  at  the  little 
parish  church  of  Glenfern  ;  there,  at  its  humble  altar,  had  she 
first  publicly  communed  with  her  Saviour,  and  there,  she  wished 
to  breathe  the  indissoluble  vows  to  him,  whom  she  loved  only 
less  than  her  God  ;  in  this  wish  her  betrothed  fully  participated, 
and  ha^  gone  to  Scotland  to  make  every  preparation  for  their 
bridal,  not  a  little  delighted  at  the  idea  of  her  surprise  !  at  see- 
ing (thanks  to  all  his  improvements)  the  bright  holiday  look  the 
dear  old  place  would  wear, — not  that  he  had  done  anything  to 
the  moated  house  itself, — for  he  would  not  for  a  Principality 


406  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

have  changed  a  thing,  or  even  removed  a  withered  leaf  about 
the  place  ;  no,  he  had  studiously  refrained  from  re-furnishing  it 
till  his  wife  should  do  so  herself;  on  the  contrary,  the  morning 
of  the  sale,  TufFnell  had  had  his  instructions  to  retain  all  the 
servants,  and  to  give  strict  injunctions  to  the  housemaids  to  keep 
up  Edith's  bed-room,  dressing  and  sitting  rooms  precisely  in  the 
same  order  as  she  had  left  them  ;  not  a  book  nor  a  flower  was 
to  be  moved  ;  the  latter  were  to  be  kept  replenished,  and  that 
was  all ;  so  that  when  she  came  back,  her  absence  might  only 
seem  hke  a  long  dream,  of  which  her  return  was  the  happy 
waking  ! 

But  the  village,  the  glen,  and  even  the  moor  beyond, — 
oh  !  how  beautiful  he  had  made  them  !  with  happiness  and  ha- 
bitations smiling  on  every  side,  despite  the  inhospitable  climate, 
like  staunch  true  hearts  in  the  midst  of  every  change  and  every 
storm  still  hopefully  looking  up.  The  "  Panrauir  Arms  "  had 
become  the  heau  ideal  of  an  Elizabethan  gable-end  house  :  and 
Amy  Verner  only  wanted  a  pointed  hat  and  a  large  ruff  to  have 
been  worthy  the  days  of  Queen  Bess,  that  is,  as  far  as  appear- 
ance went ;  for  Heaven  forbid !  that  even  the  worst  woman 
now-a-days  should  be  worthy  of  that  royal  emporium  of  every 
vice — that  maiden  queen,  who  sold  her  lover's  chattels  to  pay 
his  funeral  expenses  !  and  thus  sent  my  Lord  of  Leicester's 
household  gods  a  packing !  thereby  proving  indisputably,  that 
she  was  the  first  utilitarian.  But  to  return  to  "metal  more  at- 
tractive." Though  corporeally  separated,  the  twin  spirits  of 
Edith  and  Harold  seemed  more  closely  knit,  more  firmly  united 
than  ever.  She  had  in  him  what  so  few  women  have — not  only  his 
whole  heart,  undivided  by  any  contending  passion,  such  as  am- 
bition, or  avarice, — those  two  formidable,  and  generally  ulti- 
mately triumphant  rivals; — but  she  had  also  the  first  offerings 
of  that  heart,  the  bloom  was  still  on  it,  for  no  breath  but  hers 
had  fever  passed  over  it.  And  she,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
never  had  any  young  lady  correspondents,  in  whose  service  to 
blot  reams  of  paper  with  long,  spun  out,  interminable  nothings  ; 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  407 

SO  that  she  now  poured  out  lier  whole  heart  in  her  letters  to 
him  with  all  the  gushing  freshness  of  a  first  outbreak ;  while 
in  this  daily  interchange  of  their  transcribed  souls,  their  very 
identities  seemed  to  be  fused  into  one,  and  absence  to  be  the 
only  shadow  that  it  cast  forward  on  their  future. 

There  are  two  classes  of  persons  to  whom  preaching  by  ma- 
chinery is  particularly  insupportable  :  one  is,  that  more  numer- 
ous class,  the  wounds  of  whose  hearts  are  freshly  bleeding  on 
the  rack  of  a  recent  sorrow — the  great  mob  of  earth,  in  fact; 
the  other  is  the  narrow  circle  of  Heaven's  elite^  in  whom  the 
holy  hght  of  a  great  joy  is  diffused  like  a  halo  from  the  Crea- 
tor, over  their  entire  beihg.  The  former  want  the  healings  of 
sympathy  for  their  wounds,  which  they  cannot  find  in  any 
of  this  conventional  mechanism ;  and  the  latter  want  a  larger 
valve  through  which  to  breathe  their  gratitude  with  more  free- 
dom, and  with  more  expansion.  But,  verily,  the  theological 
machine  meets  neither  of  these  exigencies.  Edith,  as  we  have 
before  said,  never  could  endure  the  Archdeacon's  high  church, 
high-pressure,  cast-iron  sort  of  pulpit  charges  ;  in  which,  even 
the  very  blessing  and  Lord's  Prayer  was  thundered  out  more 
in  an  anathematical  than  a  benedictory  tone ;  and  every  heart 
that  has  really  knelt  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  to  offer  up  the 
latter  to  its  divine  teacher,  feels  that  there  is  somethiiig  impi- 
ous, either  in  loudly  vociferating  the  imploring  tenderness  of  its 
confiding  supplications,  or  of  hastily  and  carelessly  slurring 
them  over. 

It  was  therefore  joyfully  that  Edith  accepted  Alciphron 
Murray's  offer  of  taking  her  to  Kensington,  to  hear  his  old 
friend  Mr.  Wilmot  preach  ;  "  for  "  said  Murray,  "  I  know  you 
will  like  his  preaching,  for  he  neither  compiles  nor  concocts  his 
sermons,  but  he  believes  and  he  feels  them,  and  consequently 
his  congregation  generally  do  the  same ;  and  no  wonder,  for 
aflfliction  is  the  only  alembic  through  which  truths — even  secu- 
lar truths — and  much  more  spiritual  ones — can  be  distilled  with 
genuine  purity  ;  and  Heaven  only  knows,  poor  Wihuot  has 
learnt  those  truths  in  grief  which  he  teaches  in  gospel." 


408  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

As  tliey  drove  to  Kensington,  Murray  related  to  Edith  the 
details  of  the  oft-repeated  history  of  Florence's  elopement;  and 
how  she,  being  his  only  child,  it  had  prey'd  upon  the  old  man's 
life ;  but  chiefly  from  the  belief  that  she  was  living  in  infamy, 
from  the  fact  of  her  never  having  let  her  father  know  where 
she  was. 

"  Ah !  that,"  said  Edith,  all  in  wiping  the  tears  from  her 
eyes,  "  is  what  I  cannot  forgive  her ;  she  can  have  no  heart,  or 
worse  still,  a  very  bad  one,  and  so  I  have  thought  from  the 
first  time  you  told  me  this  terrible  history."  "  Judge  not,  lest 
ye  be  judged,"  rejoined  Murray;  "  you  don't  know  what  omni- 
potent power,  the  lord  and  master  the  poor  creature  gave  her- 
self, may  have  over  her ;  for  I  cannot  put  the  worst  construction 
on  this  fatal  step  of  hers,  as  poor  Wilmot  does ;  for,  except 
youi-self,  I  never  knew  a  more  gentle,  affectionate,  angelically- 
toned  girl  than  Florence  was.  And  suppose,  Edith,"  added  he, 
with  a  melancholy  smile,  "  when  you  are  married,  your  husband 
ordered  you  to  do,  or  not  to  do,  any  one  thing,  even  to  holding 
no  communication  with  your  father,  were  he  living,  or  to  shut- 
ting your  doors  in  the  face  of  me,  your  oldest  friend — should 
you  not  feel  yourself  bound  to  obey  ?  for  young  ladies  should 
duly  consider,  and  weigh  this  omnipotence  of  the  marital  tariff 
beforehand." 

"  No  ! "  said  Edith  indignantly ;  "  you  seem  to  forget  that 
I  love  Harold  for  the  good  and  the  right  which  are  in  him,  and 
which  are  essentially  and  emphatically  him;  and  could  I  de- 
tect anything  (even  to  the  slightest  shade)  crooked  or  bad  in 
him,  I  should  think  him  a  changeling,  and  could  no  longer  love 
him ; — it  is  not  to  say  that  I  would  not,  but  I  could  not." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  rejoined  Murray,  "  and  I  do  firmly  believe, 
that  on  the  score  of  impregnable  integrity  (always  barring  the 
four  years'  gross  imposture  he  practised  upon  you,)  and  genuine 
goodness,  he  is  quite  worthy  of  your  love;  and  as  for  that  little 
piece  of  deception,"  added  he  slily,  "  why,  it  is  a  world  old  axiom, 
that  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war,  though  a  certain  young  lady 
used  to  affect  to  be  horrified  at  such  laxity  of  principle." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  409 

"  And  so  I  am  still,"  laughed  Edith,  "  only  there  is  a  wide 
difference  between  an  assumption  of  a  false  position  to  defraud, 
to  injure,  and  to  entrap,  and  a  harmless  ruse  to  test  the  strength 
and  sincerity  of  a  woman's  affection,  when  a  ducal  coronet  and 
a  heavy  rental  w^ere  glittering  in  the  balance  scale." 

"  Very  true,"  smiled  Murray,  as  the  carriage  stopped  at  the 
old  church  at  Kensington  ;  "  a  wide  difference  between  an  as- 
smnption  of  a  false  position  to  defraud,  to  injure,  to  entrap; 
and  when  your  dictionary  comes  out,  Edith,  you  may  put  me 
down  for  at  least  half-a-dozen  copies,  which,  you  will  own,  is  do- 
ing the  thing  handsomely  !  " 

The  day  was  sultry,  and  the  church  was  crowded,  which 
rendered  the  heat  still  more  oppressive.  At  the  conclusion  of 
the  service  the  anthem  was  sung  infinitely  more  harmoniously 
than  is  generally  the  case,  for,  in  our  rather  more  sectarian  than 
Christian  horror  of  Romanism,  we  go  into  the  opposite  extreme, 
and  dedicate  only  the  refuse  of  our  talents  to  the  house  of  God; 
for  if  ever  there  is  a  daub,  it  is  generally  secured  for  an  altar- 
i:)iece,  and  every  one  knows  what  the  excruciating  nasal  screams 
of  charity  children  are.  But  Mr.  Wilmot — though  only  an  oc- 
casional preacher  at  this  church,  during  his  two  annual  visits  ef 
about  six  weeks  each,  to  his  friend  Colonel  Chipchase,  in  Palace 
Gardens — had  taken  great  pains  with  the  choir,  feeling,  in  his 
sincere  and  unaffected  piety,  that  the  uttermost  should  always 
be  done,  and  the  best  offered  in  every  department  of  God's  ser- 
vice ;  for  which  reason  he  had,  in  early  life,  taken  indefatigable 
pains  with  his  own  elocution,  knowing  from  personal  experi- 
ence that  a  vulgar  enunciation  and  mutilation  of  the  f^xir  propor- 
tions of  language  are  apt  to  desecrate  and  def^ice  the  most  sub- 
lime truths,  and  prevent  their  filling  that  niche  in  the  soul  which 
they  were  originally  designed  to  occupy,  and  to  adorn.  Nature, 
it  is  true,  had  happily  bestowed  upon  him  that  master  key  of 
persuasion,  a  melodious  and  touching  voice.  It  w^as  seldom  or 
never  loud  ;  but  it  was  so  clear,  distinct,  and  bell-like,  so  exqui- 
sitely modulated,  and  so  correctly  emphasized,  that  its  feeblest 
18 


410  BKHJND    THK    SCENES. 

tones  were  sure  to  reach  and  awaken  a  responsive  vibration  in 
every  heart ;  and  it  was  a  common  saying  among  those  who 
had  once  heard  him,  that  they  would  go  any  distance  only  to 
hear  him  say  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  give  the  blessing,  which 
really  seemed  to  flow  direct  from  Heaven,  through  his  lips,  with 
all  the  holy  unction  o/"  a  blesshu/^  and  was  not  thundered  out 
and  rattled  through,  as  if  it  had  been  merely  an  obligatory  part 
of  the  ritual,  which  had  no  particular  meaning  attached  to  it. 
His  appearance  was  apostolic  and  patriarchal  in  the  extreme  ; 
for  if  the  sword  wears  out  the  scabbard,  so  verily  does  the  spirit 
wear  and  shine  throuoh  its  incarnate  veil,  tellino"  either  of  the 
sacred  lamp  or  the  murky  fire  that  burns  within.  His  hair  was 
as  white  as  snow ;  the  forehead  high,  broad,  and  intellectual ; 
the  eyes  of  a  dark  and  expressive  blue  ;  the  nose  straight  and 
handsome,  and,  as  well  as  the  mouth,  finely  chiselled  ;  his  face 
was  very  pale,  but  smooth  and  placid, — for  the  waters  of  afflic- 
tion, in  passing  over  him,  had  mingled  with  a  deep  under  cur- 
rent of  resignation ;  and  it  is  only  sin  which  brands  with  the 
sharp  searing  irons  of  vice  strong  lines  and  indehble  marks  up- 
on the  wretches  condemned  to  its  galleys.  When  Mr.  Wilmot 
ascended  the  pulpit  and  covered  his  face  with  his  surplice,  all 
hearts  felt  that  he  prayed,  and  theij  prayed  with  him.  As  soon  as 
the  hymn  was  ended,  his  low,  clear  voice,  scarcely  less  musical, 
penetrated  througli  eveiy  crevice  of  that  old  church,  as  he  said, — 

"INTHEEIGHTli  CHAPTER  OF  ST.  PAUL'S  EPIS- 
TLE TO  THE  ROMANS,  BEGINNING  AT  THE  NINTH 
VERSE,  YOU  WILL  FIND  THESE  W^ORDS,— 

^^^  If  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christy  he  is  none  of 
his.''  And  how  think  you,  my  biethren,  this  Divine  Spirit  is 
to  be  attained  ?  First,  by  subduing  our  oiun,  which,  generally, 
in  the  natural  and  unregenerate  man,  is  the  very  opposite  to 
His.  Next,  by  diligently  imploring  Christ  to  endow  us  with 
His  Spirit,  for  we  cannot  attain  it  by  any  means  of  our  own, 
nor  by  any  other  means  than  through  His  assistance  ;  and  to 
hose  that  ask  it  shall  be  given  :  for  such  is  '  The  glorious  Gos- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  411 

2)61  of  Christ,''  of  ^vhicli  '  The7-e  hath  not  failed  one  word  of  all 
this  good  promise.''  But  still,  Christ  requires  of  us  sometliiug 
more  than  prayer:  He  requires  of  us  actions,  which  are  the 
fruits  of  prayer ;  for  is  it  not  expressly  told  us  that  He  does  not 
consider  those  as  belonging  to  Him,  who  merely  say  unto  Him, 
'  Lord,  Lord,  but  those  who  do  His  will.''  And  oh  !  blessed 
provision  in  that  stupendous  and  eternal  monument  of  God's 
goodness  to  us,  the  scheme  of  our  redemption.  To  do  His  will 
is  within  the  power  of  the  very  humblest  capacity  amongst  us, 
for  it  only  requires  obedience  and  sincerity.  It  does  not  require 
any  great  grasp,  or  reach,  of  intellect — any  subtle  analyses  of 
doctrinal  quibbles  or  theological  mysteries ;  on  the  contrary, 
theology  perplexes  truth,  but  Christianity  elucidates  it;  and 
controversy  separates  men,  but  Christianity,  if  it  be  genuine, 
unites  them:  for  no  one  can  really\o\Q  Christ,  and  not  love  his 
neighbour  also,  which  Christ  has  so  repeatedly  and  so  strenu- 
ously enjoined  us  to  do ;  but  all  love  is  an  active,  and  not  a 
passive  feeling ;  and  therefore  must  be  evinced  by  deeds,  and 
not  words  ;  but,  unfortunately,  from  the  beginning,  the  glorious 
Gospel  portals  of  Christianity,  which  God  threw  open  wide, 
gj-aciously  inviting  the  whole  world  to  enter,  men  have  closed 
into  narrow  sectarian  ingresses,  through  which  none  but  the  feio 
who  make  for  thei?'  particular  aperture  are  allowed  to  pass. 
And  worse  still,  they  have  cast  the  texts  of  Scripture  into  a  sort 
of  current  coin,  which  they  have  ever  ready  to  bestow  upon  the 
sorrows  and  wants  of  their  suffering  fellow  creatures,  in  lieu  of 
more  active  charity,  and  of  more  sympathizing  helj) ;  so  that, 
for  every  trouble  they  will  tling  you  a  text,  but  that  is  all.  It 
has  been  well  remarked  by  Bishop  Forbes,  '  that  good  is  not 
done  bv  draoo-ino-  relio-ion,  head  and  shoulders,  into  common 
conversation,  nor  are  souls  saved  by  making  oneself  disagreeable. 
Wisdom,  and  prudence,  and  good  sense  are  as  necessary  in  what 
regards  the  next  world,  as  in  what  regards  this.  Careful  thought 
and  earnestness  are  necessary  to  the  great  work  of  being  our 
brother's  keeper,  and  a  judicious  activity  is  the  condition  of  a 


412  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

real  success  in  this  way.'  Nothing  can  be  more  true  than  this; 
for  to  a  person  labouring  under  an  acute  and  positive  sorrow, 
or  a  strong  and  overwhelming  trial,  there  are  few  things  more 
offensive  and  repugnant  than  to  receive  in  full  of  all  consolation, 
or  aid,  a  string  of  ready  cut  and  dry  conventional  texts ;  and 
it  is  not  that  even  the  most  hardened  revolt  against  the  truths 
contained  in  these  quotations  :  on  the  contrary,  foi;  even  to  such, 
the  soothing  sympathies  oi  practical  Christianity,  by  softening, 
in  a  measure  subdues  their  sorrow  ;  but  it  is  that  a  heart  strug- 
gling with  a  great  grief  recoils  from  the  cold  conventional  want 
of  all  participatory  feeling  evinced  by  the  doling  out  of  these 
textual  alms.  It  is  a  common  thing  to  hear  persons  say,  in 
speaking  of  their  neighbour's  afflictions,  '  I  am  very  sorry,  but, 
unfortunately,  I  can  do  nothing.'  This  is  not  true.  Every  one, 
from  the  king  on  his  throne  to  the  beggar  at  that  king's  gate, 
has  the  pow6r  of  doing  much  to  lighten  the  burdens  of  their 
suffering  fellows;  for  sympathy  is  a  mighty  lever,  that  can  lift 
the  greatest  weights.  There  are,  it  is  true,  some  peculiar  bur- 
dens which  only  pecuniary  assistance  can  remove ;  but  even 
those  very  persons  who  have  it  least  in  their  power  to  bestow 
this  sort  of  relief,  might,  were  they  to  exert  themselves,  and  set 
aside  their  small,  low  pride  and  great  selfishness — obtain  these 
means  through  other  channels.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
are  infinitely  more  numerous  cases  which  need  no  greater  sacri- 
fice than  a  small  giving  up  of  our  time,  and  a  temporary  relin- 
quishing of  our  fovourite  pursuits.  The  French  have  an  admir- 
able saying — '  One  can  pay  with  one's  person  ; '  *  and  this  is 
what  every  Christian,  who  deserves  that  blessed  name,  is  daily 
and  hourly  called  upon  to  do.  There  are,  doubtless,  few  here 
to-day,  even  among  the  youngest  portion  of  my  auditors,  who 
have  been  so  fortunate  as  never  to  have  lain  upon  the  bed  of 
illness  ;  and  when  thus  brought  low,  surely  they  can  remember 
with  what  gratitude  they  used  to  hail  the   arrival  of  the  good 

*  "On  peut  payer  de  sa  personne." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  413 

Samaritan  ;  who  came  not,  indeed,  for  a  hurried  or  compulsory 
looking  in  upon  them,  or  a  formal  inquiry,  were  it  made  six 
times  a  day,  to  know  how  they  were ;  but,  to  the  really  Chris- 
tian soul,  who  would  give  up  its  time  to  sitting  by  their  bed-side, 
ministering  to  their  wants,  and  beguiling  the  weary  and  languid 
hours  of  suffering  by  its  presence,  and  the  heahng  sympathy  of 
showing  that  it  really  cared  for  their  cares  ;  for  we  are  all  apt, 
when  left  to  the  aggravating  influences  of  solitude,  under  severe 
bodily  or  mental  anguish,  to  imagine  that  we  are  abandoned  of 
God  and  man  ;  and  we  may  be  pardoned  for  this  feeling,  since 
Omnipotence  itself,  under  its  mental  burden,  was  oppressed  by 
it,  and  while  the  Saviour  on  Calvary  was  consumating  our  re- 
demption with  his  Godhead,  the  cry  of  '  My  God  !  my  God  ! 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? '  was  wrung  from  the  agony  of 
his  suffering  humanity  I  and  who  knows,  but  that  the  poor  peni- 
tent thief's  supplication  of  '  Oh  !  Lord  remember  me  when  thou 
coraest  into  thy  kingdom  ? '  may  not  have  touched  some  chord 
of  true  sympathy  in  the  wondrous  duality  of  the  expiring  pro- 
phet's, and  the  resuscitating  Divinity's  nature,  which  responded 
in  the  glorious  promise  of  '  this  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in 
Paradise.'  For  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  back  again  from  earth 
to  heaven,  there  can  be  no  symixithy  where  there  is  no  intcr- 
coiu'se,  and  this  national  keeping  aloof  from  one  another,  that 
we  are  prone  to,  is  at  the  root  of  all  our  sins  ;  it  does  not  indeed 
prevent  our  being  what  is  called  a  religious  people,  but  it  essen- 
tially militates  against  our  being  a  Christian  people  ;  for  in  the 
words  of  the  text, — '  If  any  man  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ, 
he  is  none  of  his ; '  and  Christ's  spirit  was  an  essentially  social 
and  Samaritan  one  ;  in  the  first  attribute  it  did  not  confine  it- 
self to  preaching  in  the  Temple,  but  fused  with  the  joys,' sor- 
rows, and  yearnings  of  humanity ;  and  in  the  second,  it  minis- 
tered to  human  wants,  and  bound  up  human  wounds,  thereby 
showing  us  in  all  the  transcendent  beauty  of  a  divine  example, 
that  Christianity  is  a  precious  talisman  to  carry  about  with  us 
into  each  and  all  of  the  ever  varying  scenes  of  life,  and  not  a 


414  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

mere  moulded  amulet  to  sliut  ourselves  up  with  in  our  closets, 
selfishly  thinking  how  it  may  benefit  our  individual  soul. 
ISTor  is  it,  even,  to  be  exclusively  laid  with  the  precious  vessels 
on  the  altar;  but  it  is  to  be  ever  with  us,  evidenced  towards 
and  shared  with  our  fellow  creatures,  even  as  Christ  proved  and 
diftused  it  among  men,  not  in  weighed  portions,  or  restricted 
measures,  but  as  the  one  great  fountain,  whose  source  being  in 
heaven,  can  never  be  exhausted  by  any  drains  that  earth  may 
make  upon  it,  whether  it  flow  in  wine  at  a  marriage  feast,  or  in 
tears  at  a  deathbed.  Oh  !  my  bi-ethren,  if  men  would  but  fol- 
low the  broad  high  road,  the  pleasant  path  of  Gospel  truth,  and 
leave  the  narrow,  miry,  and  cumbered  back-ways  of  controver- 
sial theology,  how  much  sooner  and  more  safely  would  they  find 
their  way  to  heaven ;  but  they  have  indeed  '  sought  out  many 
inventions,'  by  all  of  which  they  sorely  mislead  and  perplex 
themselves.  An  elegant  Deist  *  of  the  last  century,  said,  that 
it  was  reading  Fontenelle's  '  Plurality  of  Worlds '  which  had 
shaken  his  belief  in  Christianity.  Now  this  avowal  was  as  shal- 
low as  it  was  sinister,  for  supposing  that  the  multiplicity  of 
worlds  amounted  in  number  to  as  many  grains  as  there  are 
sands  on  the  sea  shore ;  in  the  first  place,  it  does  not  follow  that 
they  are  all  or  any  of  them  peopled  by  the  animal  man,  and  by 
the  same  graduated  scale  of  inferior  animals  necessary  to  his 
existence ;  but,  even  granting  that  they  were,  and  that  this 
could  be  ascertained  beyond  a  doubt ;  still  it  does  not  follow,  that 
they  should  have  sinned  hke  our  first  parents,  and  forfeited  their 
primeval  heritage  of  innocence.  But  allowing  that  such  also 
was  the  case,  and  going  a  step  beyond,  and  pre-supposing  that 
they  had  even  sinned  7nore  than  we  had — a  difiicult  supposition 
I  grant — yet  still  the  Omnipotence  which  had  deigned  to  con- 
dense its  will  into  saving  so  small  a  segment  of  the  universe  as 
our  globe,  could  surely  at  pleasure,  suffice  in  its  expansion  for 
the  redemption  of  all  creation.     But,  my  dear  brethren,  as  I  be- 

*  Horace  "Walpole. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES,  415 

fore  said,  there  is  notliiiig  so  profitless,  or  miicli  worse,  so  posi- 
tively injurious,  as  wasting  tlie  time  and  energies  that  should 
be  devoted  to  God's  service,  in  toiling  up  the  miry  steeps  of 
these  cloud-capped  speculations,  which  either  by  shaking  our 
own  faith  in  diverting  it  from  the  true  light,  or  exciting  our 
angry  pasious  by  trying  to  extinguish  the  false  lights  of  others, 
can  only  endanger  our  safety,  w^ithout  in  any  way  conducing 
even  to  our  temporal  satisfaction  ;  for  all  the  premises  without 
the  pale  of  the  Apocalypse,  being  false,  all  arguments  for  and 
against  such  must  be  equally  false ;  as  those  for  instance,  who, 
with  hot  zeal,  though  in  cold  blood,  thunder  their  anthemas 
against  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation,  generally  employ  the 
most  shallow  of  all  arguments  against  it,  by  appealing  to  people's 
reason,  as  to  whether  it  is  possible  to  believe  in  such  an  absurd- 
ity ?  Kow  the  only  absurdity  of  this  is  the  illogical  nature  of 
this  appeal ;  for  nothing  is  an  absurdity,  as  to  being  incredible, 
which  comes  within  the  scope  of  God's  power ;  and  what  is 
there  that  does  not  ?  Therefore,  upon  the  score  of  reason  the 
quotidian  miracle  of  transubstantiation  is  not  one  single  mys- 
tery more  incomprehensible  to  the  narrow  limits  of  human  ca- 
pacity, than  the  one  stupendous  original  miracle  of  God's  in- 
carnation; but  the  true  ground  for  repudiating  the  real  presence 
in  the  Eucharist,  is,  the  well-authenticated  fact  that  this  idea 
was  only  started  by  a  French  monk,  in  the  ninth  century,  and 
not  adopted  by  the  Anglo-Catholic  church  till  two  centuries 
later ;  and  the  laws  of  the  Eternal  never  remain  in  abeyance, 
but  are  the  same  to-day,  yesterday,  and  for  ever ! 

But  the  reason  that  this  species  of  doctrinal  theology  ought 
to  be  so  especially  avoided,  is,  that  it  may  make  Canters,  but  it 
will  not  make  Christians  ;  it  may  indeed  send  people  regularly  to 
church  three  times  a  day,  to  weary  Heaven  with  lip  worship, 
and  to  Sunday  Schools,  to  do  a  little  conventional  parrot  work 
there.  But  such  persons,  by  making  religion  odious,  are  its 
worst  enemies ;  and  whosoever  looks  from  such  grafts  for  the 
beautiful  fruits  of  Christianity,  in  their  deahngs  with,  and  bear- 


416  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

ing  towards,  their  fellow  creatures,  will  be  disappointed  ;  for  we 
'  cannot  gather  grapes  from  thorns,  nor  figs  from  thistles ; '  '  and 
if  any  man  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christy  he  is  none  of  his ; ' 
for  the  spirit  of  Christ  it  is,  which  at  once  prompts  and  enables 
us  to  bear  one  another's  burdens ;  the  spirit  of  Christ  it  is,  and 
the  spirit  of  Christ  only,  wdiich  can  enable  us  to  bear  our  own ; 
for  some  there  are,  so  heavy  !  that  no  mortal  spirit  could  bear 
up  under  them,  save  by  the  holy  aid  of  his  divine  one.  And 
it  is  with  spiritual,  as  with  human  warfare,  in  God's  army  of 
martyrs  as  in  the  mercenary  armies  of  monarchs,  the  bravest 
hearts,  and  stanchest  natures,  are  always  placed  in  the  van- 
guard to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  battle  !  but  in  the  spiritual  war- 
fare, the  true  centurion  of  God  knows  that  the  end  is  not  yet, 
and  does  not  anticipate  either  his  rest  or  his  reward  in  this 
world  ;  for  if  he  did — seeing  how  often  it  falls  out  that  there  is 
neither,  for  the  righteous,  while  the  ungodly  have  (apparently) 
all  things  at  their  desire,  and  bask  life  away  like  a  summer  hoH- 
day, — he  would  be  tempted  to  lay  down  his  arms,  and  desert 
his  standard,  saying, — '  Verily,  my  lot  is  too  relentlessly  unjust.' 
But  no ;  such  an  one,  humanly  speaking,  neither  looks  around 
him  to  compare  the  prosperity  of  others  with  his  own  misfor- 
tunes, nor  forward,  towards  those  promissory  notes,  which  the 
FUTURE,  that  w^orld-old  bank,  issues  so  lavishly ;  but  he  looks 
upward  I  and  girding  his  strong  armour  of  faith  and  obedience 
the  more  firmly  around  him,  feels  as  well  as  remembers,  that 
Heaven's  greatest  victories  are  achieved  by  Earth's  forlorn 
hopes ! " 

"  Oh  !  think  not,  niy  dear  brethren,  that  I  preach  to  you  '  as 
one  having  authoritj^,'  even  as  a  minister  of  Christ ;  no,  I  rather 
appeal  to  your  hearts  from  my  own,  as  '  a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief.'  Would  that  my  resemblance  to  my 
Divine  master  were  not  limited  to  this ;  my  sorrows,  indeed, 
may  not  be  yours,  and  God  forbid  that  they  should;  but  still, 
sorrow  is  the  parent  stem  of  all  created  beings,  the  one  great 
link 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  417 

'  That  makes  all  nature  kin  ! ' 

And  each  individual  heart '  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,'  and 
while  that  bitterness  lasts,  all  the  waters  of  Marah,  were  they 
to  flood  it,  could  not  increase  its'  gall ;  for  a  vessel  can  hut  be 
full. 

"  Let  us,  then,  try  and  prevent  this  bitterness  from  degen- 
erating into  the  worldly  poison  of  selfishness,  misanthropy,  and 
despair,  by  converting  it,  even  as  the  Hebrews  did  their  bitter 
herl^s,  into  a  meet  and  acceptable  offering  to  the  Most  High. 
But,  alas !  my  brethren,  the  same  process  by  which  the  Jews 
made  their  bitter  herbs  into  fragrant  incense,  is  necessary  for 
our  poor  hearts.  Much  crushing,  much  bruising,  much  fusion^ 
not  only  with  our  similitudes^  but  with  our  opj^osites  in  degree, 
nature,  and  value,  and  ultimate  purification,  for  which  not  even 
the  furnace  of  afHiction,  singly/,  is  sufficient.  No ;  it  must  be 
by  a  coal  from  the  altar  itself !  a  spark  of  sacred  fire,  too  pure 
to  be  dimmed  by  any  earthly  mists,  and  too  ardent  to  be 
quenched  by  any  worldly  storms :  that  alone  can  render  it 
worthy  in  its  turn  to  be  offered  up  as  a  holy  sacrifice  unto  God. 
And  now,  in  conclusion,  I  will  merely  remind  you  of  St.  John's 
new  commandment,  '  That  ye  love  one  another  ;'  prudence,  as 
well  as  piety,  should  induce  you  to  do  so ;  for  we  ail  have  suf- 
fered, are  sufiering,  or  will  sutler ;  it  is  the  immutable  law  of 
nature,  and,  therefore,  cannot  be  repealed ;  but  it  is  also  written, 
that  '  the  merciful  shall  find  mercy.'  To  love  one  another  is  to 
feel  for  and  to  help  one  another ;  and  though,  indeed,  we  often 
do,  and  shall  meet  with  the  basest  ingratitude  from  those  we 
have  gone  most  out  of  our  way  to  serve,  yet  our  harvest  will 
be  equally  sure,  for  '  as  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap,'  '/  will  repay, 
saith  the  Lord.'  Therefore,  look  to  no  human  being  for  re- 
ward ;  for,  verily,  like  all  things  human,  they  will  disappoint 
you;  but  let  them  disappoint  as  they  may,  'be  ye  not  weary 
of  well  doing;'  for,  if  we  stand  aloof  from  the  misfortunes  of 
whatsoever  kind  of  our  fellow-creatures,  from  the  selfish  fear  of 
IS'* 


418  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

inculpating  ourselves  in  them,  and  experiencing  personal  incon- 
venience, whicli  is  all  summed  up  in  that  not  very  elegant,  but 
peculiarly  English  phrase,  of  getting  ourselves  into  a  mess,  we 
have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ,  for  the  spirit  of  Christ  is  charity, 
which  hopeth  all  things !  endureth  all  things  !  and  accom- 
plisheth  all  things  ! " 

The  attention  of  the  whole  congregation  had  been  breath- 
less, during  Mr.  Wilmot's  sermon  ;  for,  what  Addison  said  of 
Bishop  Atterbury,  might  with  equal  truth  be  said  of  him,  that 
"  he  added  to  the  propriety  of  speech  which  might  pass  the 
criticism  of  Longinus,  an  action  which  would  have  been  ap- 
proved by  Demosthenes ;  and  he  never  attempted  to  touch  the 
feehngs  till  he  had  first  convinced  the  reason  ;  all  the  objections 
that  could  be  formed  he  laid  open  and  dispersed  before  he  used 
the  least  vehemence  in  his  sermon  ;  but  when  he  had  your  head, 
he  very  soon  won  your  heart,  for  he  never  pretended  to  show 
the  heauty  of  holiness  till  he  had  first  convinced  you  of  the 
truth  of  it." 

In  the  management  of  his  melodious  voice  he  had  the  most 
consummate  artistic  skill :  indeed,  it  might  be  said  of  him,  also, 
as  the  biographer  of  Bishop  Home  said  of  Bishop  HinchclifFe's 
preaching :  "  It  was  remarkable,  and,  to  those  who  did  not  know 
the  cause,  mysterious,  that  there  was  not  a  corner  of  the  church 
in  which  he  could  not  be  heard  distinctly  ;  the  reason  was,  that 
the  bishop  made  it  an  invariable  rule  to  do  justice  to  every  con- 
sonant, knowing  that  the  vowels  will  be  sure  to  take  care  of 
themselves." 

Mr.  Wilmot  did  the  same ;  and  at  once  the  peculiar  feature 
and  the  triumph  of  his  elocution,  was  its  bland  distinctness ; 
there  were  no  vociferations  beyond  the  compass  of  his  voice, 
losing  themselves  in  a  squeak ;  no  steam-engine  eftbrts  at  em- 
phatic efi"ects;  all  was  one  calm,  deep,  harmonious  equal  flow, 
yet  so  clear  as  to  be  as  thrilliugly  distinct  as  the  metallic  tones 
of  a  bell  through  the  silent  air  of  midnight.  Any  man  so 
gifted,  more  especially  any  man  called  to  the  high  privilege  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  419 

being  a  minister  of  God,  may  surely  exclaim,  with  honest,  be- 
cause grateful,  pride — 

"  His  me  consolor  victurum  suavius  ac  si 
Quoestor  avus  pater  atqne  mens,  patrnusqiie  fuissent.'^ 

Before  Edith  had  finished  her  conchiding  prayer,  her  atten- 
tion was  distracted  by  hearing  the  following  queries  muttered 
in  a  pew  behind  her  : — 

"  What  hever  shall  I  do  dow  ?  Just  as  I  feared  hit  would 
be,  hand  no  footman,  nor  no  nothink,  heven  for  to  go  for  a  cab ; 
and  /  that  weak  hand  that  nervous,  that  hanybody  might  knock 
me  down  with  a  feather.  Ho,  dear !  ho,  dear  !  what  hever 
shall  I  do  !  " 

Kising  from  her  knees,  and  looking  over  into  the  next  pew, 
Edith  beheld  an  immense  pile  of  black  crape,  something  like 
the  gigantic  helmet  in  the  castle  of  Otranto  ;  while,  like 

"The  new  moon,  in  the  old  moon's  lap," 

leaning  against  it,  lay  a  slight  figure  in  a  grey  silk  dress,  vrith 
a  white  drawn  bonnet,  and  a  thick  white  veil,  covering,  and 
entirely  concealing  the  face.  Edith  immediately  perceived  that 
this  lady  was  fainting ;  and,  handing  the  black  crape  a  Jlaqon 
of  aqua  d'oro,  she  said :  "  Had  you  not  better  raise  her  veil  ?  " 

"  Hextremely  hobleeged  to  you,  um,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
Bousefield,  taking  the  proff"ered  smelhng-bottle,  and  putting  it 
under  the  invalid's  veil ;  "  but  there  his  reasons  why  I  dussent 
raise  ray  lady's  veil  till  I  get  her  hout  of  this  :  hand  'ow  to  do 
that,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  ;  for  hit's  hunpossible  that  I  can 
leave  her  to  go  for  a  cab,  to  say  nothink  hof  my  being  that 
weak  hand  that  nervous  myself,  that  hanybody  might  knock 
me  down  with  a  feather ! "  concluded  Mrs.  Bousefield,  in  the 
same  confidential  whisper. 

"  Oh  !  you  need  not  distress  yourself  about  that,"  said  Edith, 
"for  I'm  in  a  clarence,  and  can  take  you  both  home."     And 


420  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

then  turning  to  Murray,  she  told  hun  to  go  and  see  for  the  car- 
riage ;  but  she  had  scarcely  done  so,  before  the  servant  came  to 
take  her  books,  and  announce  that  it  was  ready. 

"  What  a  beautiful  young  lady,  to  be  sure  I  "  thought  Mrs. 
Bousefield,  looking  at  Edith,  "  hand  the  very  himage  hof  Lady 
Heveliner  Highflyer,  the  Countess  of  Coddlecat's  niece,  hexcept 
that  Lady  Heveliner  'ad  black  air,  hand  light  heyes,  hand  not 
quite  so  good  a  figure,  being  rather  short  hand  stout ;  but  then, 
hof  course  there  his  a  sort  of  famly  likeness  hamong  hall  the 
harrystocracy,  by  which  one  can  halways  tell  has  they  his 
them." 

But  the  widow  was  here  interrupted  in  her  visionary  wan- 
derings through  her  favourite  elysium  of  the  elite,  by  Murray 
coming  into  her  pew  and  asking  her  if  she  would  allow  him  to 
carry  the  lady  to  the  carriage ;  whereupon  Mrs.  Bousefield 
hastily  lowered  her  black  crape  drop-scene,  and  felt  more  fea- 
thery and  epileptic  than  ever  at  the  sight  of  him,  as  she  re- 
plied— 

"Hif  you  would  be  so  good,  sir,  I  should  be  much  obleeged 
to  you." 

He  then  lifted  poor  Florence  in  his  arms,  like  an  infant,  and 
made  his  way  through  the  now  departing  congregation,  follow- 
ed by  Edith  and  Mrs.  Bousefield,  who  wdiispered  the  former 
confidentially  : — 

"  The  fact  his,  mum,  you've  been  so  kind  that  I  may  tell 
you,  hin  conferdence,  that  my  lady's  his  a  sad  'istry.  Poor 
thing  !  she  'loped  hoff  some  five  hor  six  years  ago,  and  I'm  sorry 
to  say  hit,  married  a  perfect  blackguard !  I  call  him,  who  'as 
been  all  that  time  a  killing  hon  her,  by  the  foot  I  should  say, 
more  than  by  hinches — a  shutting  hon  her  hup,  hand  not  hown- 
ing  hon  her  has  his  wife,  hand  a  subjecting  hon  her,  poor  thing, 
to  hevery  species  hof  privation  hand  pokery ;  while  'e's  a  gal- 
lanting about  hand  a  wallering  hin  hevery  lugshurry,  hinstead 
hof  a  wallering  hin  mire,  has  such  a  selfish  'og  orght  to  do ; 
hand  too  good  for  him,  too,  for  the  'ogs  do  keep  to  their  hown 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  421 

sty,  tliey  do,  hand  don't  go  about  a  gammoning  hof  bothers! 
But  I  was  a  going  to  say,  mum, — honly  whenhever  I  talk  hof 
this  good-for-nothink  feller,  it  puts  me  so  beside  myself  that  I've 
a  difficulty  bin  finding  myself  again.  So  different  from  poor 
dear  Mr.  Bousefield  !  my  'usban,  mum,  who'd  'ave  give  me 
goold  to  heat,  hif  so  be  as  I'd  a  fancied  it ;  but  mij  poor  lady, 
she  says  to  me  this  morning, — 'Barlow,'  says  she,  for  she  hal- 
ways  calls  me  Barlow,  that  'aving  been  my  maiden  name  when 
I  lived  with  her  mammar, — '  Barlow,'  says  she,  '  I  know  I  can- 
not last  long  now,  and  I  cannot  bear  the  highdear  hof  dying 
without  looking,  upon  my  poor  father's  face  once  more.  So  I 
will  go  hand  'ear  him  preach,  and  by  that  means  I  shall  carry 
away  what  I  do  not  deserve,  and  therefore  never  dare  bask  his 
blessing.'  I  did  hall  hever  I  could  to  persuade  her  not  to^ 
knowing  has  she  could  never  stand  the  sight  hon  him,  poor, 
dear  bold  gentleman,  but  hit  was  hall  hof  no  use.  Come  she 
Vvould  ;  hand,  as  for  me,  when  I  see  jMr.  Halciphron  Murray  a 
sitting  right  before  us — her  par's  most  hintimate  friend,  that  I 
knowd  halmost  has  well  has  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield — I 
thought  has  that  would  have  set  her  hoflf;  but,  no,  there  she 
sat  a  crucifying  hon  herself  with  her  heyes  nailed  upon  her  fa- 
ther, till  hit  was  hall  hover,  hand  then  she  fainted  aivay^  as 
you  see,  mum,  hand — " 

But  whatever  further  communications  Mrs.  Bousefield  was 
about  to  make,  were  prevented  by  the  return  of  Hinton,  the 
footman,  with  Mr.  Murray's  comphments,  and  "  he'd  be  much 
obliged  to  Miss  Panmuir  to  make  haste  to  the  carriage  1 " 

She  did  so,  having  in  the  widow's  hurried  and  confused  nar- 
ration, gleaned  that  the  long-lost  Florence  Wilmot  was  at  length 
found!  and  her  first  feeling  was  one  of  sympathetic  gladness  at 
the  idea  of  the  joy  this  would  occasion  to  that  good,  benevolent- 
looking  old  man,  whose  words  had  made  so  deep  an  impression 
on  her  that  morning,  and  over  whose  sorrows,  when  described 
to  her  by  Murray,  she  had  so  often  wept ;  but  when  she  saw 
all  that  was  left  of  that  poor   heart-stricken  old   man's  once 


422  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

blooming  child,  a  feeling  of  paralyzing  pity  and  intense  grief 
succeeded  this  transient  glow  of  delight. 

"  Oh,  Edith,  such  a  discovery  !  "  said  Murray,  as  she  reach- 
ed the  carriage  door. 

"  I  know  it  all,"  said  Edith,  wiping  her  streaming  eyes,  as 
she  got  in  and  seated  herself  opposite  to  the  deadly  pale  and 
still  insensible  Florence,  whose  head,  more  like  an  alabaster  bust 
than  any  living  thing,  reclined  on  Murray's  shoulder,  while  he 
told  Mrs.  Bousefield  to  tell  the  coachman  where  to  go,  and  then 
to  make  haste  and  get  in. 

"  Good  heavens  !  Barlow,  is  that  you  ? "  said  he,  now  look- 
ing at  her  for  the  first  time,  as  soon  as  she  was  seated,  and  they 
had  driven  off;  "and  is  it  possible  that  yow,  who  knew  her  as 
a  child,  could  connive  at  her  concealment  from  her  poor  father 
all  these  years  ?  " 

"  Well,  but  now  just  look  here,  Mr.  Murray,"  began  Mrs. 
Bousefield,  who,  as  we  have  before  stated,  was  a  sort  of  petti- 
coated  pope,  whose  infalHbility  was  not  even  to  be  suspected, 
much  less  impeached,  "  when  Miss  Florence  Hojyed  liof\  ad  /a 
been  with  her,  hand  she'd  'ave  hasked  me  to  'elp  her  hin  such 
a  thing,  I  should  'ave  said,  '  No,  Miss  Florence,  sutenly  not,  for 
I  scorn  to  deceive  your  par !  hand  such  a  good  par  as  he  'ave 
been  to  you,  hand  such  a  good  master  has  he  'ave  hin  to  me ;' 
but,  wherehofi",  hit  was  no  such  a  thing,  has  you  must  be  very 
well  aware,  sir,  knowing  has  marriage  was  the  least  thing  in 
my  'ead  then,  seeing  has  I  was  trying  hall  I  could  to  get  hon 
has  a  widder,  which  his  sorrer  enough  hin  hitself !  Well,  about 
fifteen  months  ago.  Miss  Florence  writes  to  me,  hand  hasks  hif 
I,  has  an  experienced  ooman,  would  come  hand  take  care  hof 
her  smaU  famly,  hand  that  was  the  first  has  I  knowd  of  her  be- 
ing married. — " 

"  And  who  is  she  married  to  ? "  breathlessly  interrupted 
Murray. 

"Har!  who,  hindeed?"  re-echoed  Mrs.  Bousefield,  with 
one  of  her  most  contemptuous  tosses  of  her  black  crape  cupola, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  423 

"  he  calls  hisself  Mr.  ''Enery,  but  he  aint  no  more  a  Mr.  'Enery 
than  I  am,  I'm  pretty  sure ;  hand  when  he  comes  with  his  fine 
carriages  and  osses,  I've  tried  a  many  hand  a  many  times  to 
get  hout  from  his  servants  the  real  names  hof  the  feller — black- 
guard !  I  call  him — but  they  honly  laughs  and  winks  at  one 
hanother,  hand  says  has  he's  halways  Mr.  'Enery,  for  Magnolier 
Lodge — for  like  master,  like  man — so  hof  course  they  hall  'ang 
together,  hand  it's  a  pity  but  they  was  hall  'anged  together — 
hlacliguards,  I  call  'em  ! " 

"  What !  then,"  said  Murray,  "  does  not  this  Mr.  Henry, 
whom  you  call  her  husband,  live  with  her  ? " 

"  Oh  !  dear,  no ;  he's  always  about  amusing  hon  hisself, 
hand  going  here,  hand  running  there,  while  he  mews  her  hup, 
poor  dear  young  lady ;  hand  w^hat  his  wus  than  hall,  thof  he 
don't  Kve  Avith  'er,  he  just  makes  it  seem  for  all  the  world  has 
hif  she  lived  w^ith  Am." 

"  Then  I'm  afraid  after  all,"  groaned  Murray,  "  that  they 
are  not  married."]     • 

"Ho!  yes,  but  they  hare,  sir;  but  has  he  says  has  hit 
would  be  the  ruin  hon  him  hif  so  be  has  his  marriage  was 
known — hon  account  hof  some  rich  hold  relation  a  leaving  hon 
him  a  fortin — he  halways  threatens  poor  Miss  Florence,  least- 
ways, Mrs.  'Enery,  that  he'll  break  their  marriage,  if  she  tells 
her  par  where  she  is." 

"How  do  you  mean,  break  their  marriage,  if  they  are  mar- 
ried? Villain,  as  he  is,  that,  thank  heaven,  is  a  piece  of  villany 
7iot  in  his  power  to  commit." 

"  I  fear  hit  his,  sir,"  sighed  Mrs.  Bousefield,  "  has  hit  hap- 
pears  that  neither  hof  them  was  hof  hage  when  they  got  mar- 
ried." 

"  He  may  have  been  villain  enough  to  persuade  her  to  this, 
but  thank  heaven  it  is  not  so  ;  how,  and  where,  can  I  see  this 
wretch  ?  "  asked  Murray,  clenching  his  hand. 

"  Ho,  he  yinra%  comes  about  once  a  week,  and  Sunday 
his  Mostly  his  day  ;  he  comes,  poor  dear,  not  to  see  how  she  be. 


424  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

but  how  soon  she  will  cease  to  be,  his  my  belief,"  said  Mrs. 
Bousefiekl,  wiping  the  comer  of  her  eyes. 

'•  You  see,  as  I  suspected,"  said  Murray,  turning  to  Edith, 
who  was  still  chafing  Florence's  temples  and  the  palms  of  her 
hands,  without  however  being  able  to  elicit  the  least  symptom 
of  returning  animation,  "there  was  some  demon  power  at  work 
to  prevent  this  poor  misguided  girl  from  writing  to  her  father." 

"  Ilif  you  do  see  him,  sir,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Bousefield — her 
eyes  dancing  with  delight  at  the  mere  anticipation  of  such  a 
thing — "  I  know  has  you  used  down  amongst  poor  Mr.  Wil- 
mot's  parishionei's  to  be  reckoned  a  capital  player  hat  football ; 
hand  thof  hit  hu  Sunday,  I  'ope  has  you  wont  debar  yourself 
hof  a  little  wholsome  hexercise  hand  hamusement  hon  the 
feller's  back — hlackguard  !  I  call  him." 

"  He  shall  not  go  unpunished,  you  may  rely  upon  it,"  replied 
Murray,  grinding  his  teeth  and  clenching  his  hand ;  which 
proiuise  seemed  so  satisfactory  to  Mrs.  Bousefield,  that  she 
turned  to  Edith,  and  said,  with  a  bland  smile, — 

"  I'm  sure,  mum,  you're  very  good,  hand  you're  giving  your- 
self a  deal  of  trouble,  hand  tiring  yourself,  I  fear,  for  nothing ; 
for  wdien  my  poor  lady  gets  hinto  one  of  those  here  sounds — 
which  she  hoften  does  hafter  hany  hextra  hagitation  hor  hex- 
citement — she'll  remain  hin  'em  for  hours  hand  hours,  hand 
there's  no  bringing  hon  her  to,  do  what  one  will." 

"  But  used  this  Mr.  Henry,  or  whoever  he  is,  visit  at  Mr. 
Wilmot's  ?  "  asked  Murray ;  "  for  the  most  extraordinary  part 
of  the  business  is,  that  after  his  daughter's  elopement,  he  says 
he  never  missed  any  young  men  from  the  house  who  were  in 
the  habit  of  coming  to  it." 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Bousefield  ;  "she  'ave  told  me  that 
about  six  months  before  she  loped  hofF  with  him,  she  had  gone 
hon  a  visit  to  her  mar's  hold  friend,  Mrs.  Trevor  Boynton,  hin 
Yorkshire ;  hand  hit  was  there  she  met  this  'ere  good-for- 
nothink  villand." 

"  Ah !  then  that  accounts  for  poor  Wilraot  being  at  a  loss 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  425 

whom  to  suspect,"  sighed  Murray;  •'  but  this  wretch  must  have 
the  calculating  craft  of  the  very  devil  himself,  to  have  gone  off 
with  her  so  long  after  her  visit  to  Mrs.  Boynton,  and  never  to 
have  presented  himself  even  once  at  her  father's  house,  so  as 
to  effectually  ward  off  all  suspicion  from  himself  and  baffle 
all  clue  to  tracing  her." 

"  Ho,  as  to  that,  sir,"  volunteered  Mrs,  Bousefield,  "  I 
should  be  the  last  person  to  wish  to  take  the  devil's  part,  hat 
the  same  time  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  'ave  heven  the  devil 
haccused  wrongfully,  hor  made  hout  iviis  than  he  is,  being,  has 
we  hall  know,  quite  bad  enough  for  hall  husefull  purposes  ; 
but  I  must  say,  in  my  humble  hopinion,  knowing  has  I  do  this 
here  Mr.  'Enery  hintemately,  hand  the  devil  honly  by  'earsay, 
that  I  think  the  devil  would  'ave  hevery  reason  to  feel  hisself 
greviouslij  hinsulted  hat  being  spoked  hof  hin  the  same  breath 
with  him,  let  halone  compared  with  him,  which  there  haint  no 
comparison ;  for  has  the  sayin  his,  '  the  devil  halways  takes 
care  hof  his  hown,  '  which  his  more  than  that  ere  villand  of  a 
Mr.  'Enery  does." 

And  this  piece  of  moral  philosophy  of  Mrs.  Bousefield's 
brought  them  to  the  gate  of  Magnolia  Lodge,  which  Joe 
Roberts,  now  "  tidied  up^''  en  permanence^  opened.  Murray  gently 
lifted  the  still  insensible  Florence  from  the  carriage,  and  having 
been  directed  by  Mi-s.  Bousefield  to  "  go  in  to  the  draivring 
room'hon  the  right  and  side,  hand  lay  her  hon  the  sofer^''  she 
next  got  out  herself,  and  casting  a  furtive  glance  of  approval  at 
Joe's  toilet,  informed  him  en  j^cissant,  that  she  was  that  weak 
hand  that  nervous  that  she  wanted  cariying  quite  as  much  as 
her  mistress.  However,  he  did  not  take  the  hint ;  so  after 
resting  a  few  seconds  upon  his  arm  in  alighting,  and  leaning  all 
her  weight  upon  it,  as  she  kept  turning  her  head  from  one  side 
to  the  other  and  panting  in  the  most  impromptu  and  unpre- 
cedented manner,  which  caused  Mr.  Pioberts  to  express  a  pro- 
fessional fear  that  she  was  rathe?'  touched  in  the  wind  !  "  At 
this  she  gave  herself  an  impetus  with  a  final  sigh,  saying  she 


426  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

must  go  to  lier  lady,  merely  adding  for  Joe's  future  guidance, 
that  he  need  not  again  answer  the  gate-bell,  "  has  them  was  not 
the  sort  of  rings  she  wanted  him  to  look  hafter." 

Murray  had  laid  Florence  gently  down  upon  the  sofa,  taken 
off  her  bonnet,  put  back  her  hair  off  her  forehead,  and  chafed 
her  temples  with  eau  de  cologne  ;  yet  still  without  the  slightest 
symptom  of  returning  animation.  Upon  Mrs.  Bousefield's 
entrance,  after  a  few  more  obligato  groans,  over  her  oivn  state 
of  feebleness  and  nervousness,  she  took  oft^  her  mistress's  shoes, 
and  began  rubbing  her  feet ;  but  her  efforts  to  awaken  the  poor 
sufferer  to  consciousness  were  attended  with  no  better  success 
than  Murrray's  had  been  ;  but  while  they  were  all  three  thus 
employed,  for  Edith  had  taken  her  hand,  the  cry  of  an  inf^mt 
was  heard  in  the  room  overhead. 

"  She  has  children  then  ? "  said  Murray,  the  big  tears  which 
had  stood  still  in  his  eyes  now  rolhng  over,  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Yes,  sir,  three ;  hand  /,  that  'ave  lost  six  dear  hinfants, 
find  hall  my  comfort  in  'a^/the  number  of  poor  Mrs.  'Enery's, 
sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Bousefield,  wiping  her  eyes ;  "  but  I'm  sure 
has  that  poor  dear  babby  his  hill,  he  his  so  huncommon  cross 
and  hopstroplus,  these  last  two  days." 

"  How  old  are  the  other  two  children  ?  "   asked  Murray. 

"  Master  'Enery  his  five  hand-a  arf,  hand  Miss  Florence  four 
hand-a-arf,  sir." 

"  You  had  better  go  and  bring  them  here ;  perhaps  the 
sound  of  their  little  voices  may  do  more  towards  arousing  her 
than  all  our  efforts ;  for  the  ears  of  a  mother's  heart  are  never 
deaf  till  the  pulses  of  her  heart  are  mute." 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Bousefield  had  closed  the  door  after  her, 
Murray  said  to  Edith — 

"  When  the  children  come  down,  I  will  go  for  poor  Wil- 
mot ;  painful  as  this  meeting  and  parting !  in  one,  will  be,  I 
know  it  will  be  a  melancholy  consolation  to  him  to  give  his 
poor  misguided  child  his  blessing  and  his  forgiveness,  to  smooth 
her  way  to  Heaven.  Might  I  ask  you,  dear  Edith,  to  stay 
with  her  till  we  return  ? " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  427 

"How  could  you  suppose  that  I  ivould  leave  her? "  rejoined 
Edith  reproachfully — taking  off  her  bonnet  and  flinging  it  upon 
a  table,  as  she  drew  a  chair  to  the  couch  and  seated  herself  be- 
side Florence. 

"Xo,"  said  Murray;  "only  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  it  is 
right  to  leave  you  here,  or  that  I  am  at  all  justified  in  doing  so, 
considering  the  equivocal  light  poor  Florence  is  no  doubt  view- 
ed in,  in  this  neighbourhood,  not  the  most  respectable  one  in 
the  world  ;  and  the  risk  there  is  of  that  Mr.  Henry,  whoever  the 
wretch  may  be,  arriving,  while  you  are  here  alone.  My  fears 
are  not  about  you,  Edith,  for  '  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure ; ' 
but  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  Duke  would  like  it  ? " 

"  Don't  call  him  the  Duke  ;  I  hate  to  hear  him  called  the 
Duke ;  but  I  know  Harold  better  than  you  do ;  and  therefore  I 
know  that  he  always  looks  to  the  truth,  and  to  the  real  motives 
of  all  actions,  and  consequently  if  I  wanted  to  forfeit  his  esteem, 
or  incur  his  displeasure,  I  am  sure  the  most  effectual  method  of 
doing  so,  would  be  for  me  to  allow  a  piece  of  hollow,  selffsh, 
prudential  conventionalism,  to  stand  between  me  and  the  per- 
formance of  an  imperative  act  of  common  humanity  ;  but  for  that 
very  reason,  as  he  is  so  noble,  so  generous,  so  single-minded,  and 
unlike  the  generality  of  people,  I  grant,  that  so  real  and  bright 
an  honour  should  be  all  the  more  nicely  cared  for,  and  the  more 
scrupulously  guarded ;  therefore,  as  soon  as  you  have  brought 
poor  Mr.  Wilmot  here,  you  had  better  go  to  the  Duchess,  and 
tell  her  all,  and  I  know  she  will  come  to  me  immediately,  and 
where  she  is  calumny  dare  not  enter." 

"  You  are  right,  Edith  ;  and  may  God's  blessing  ever  rest  on 
two  such  pure  and  congenial  spirits  as  yours  and  his." 

"  And  don't  forget  to  add  a  prayer,  that  /  may  be  worthy 
of  him,"  said  Edith ;  "  for  it  seems  to  me  that  nothing  out  of 
Heaven  can  be  so  :  look  at  this  poor  wreck,  and  how  am  I  in 
any  way  better,  that  I  should  sail  upon  such  a  sea  of  prosperity^ 
with  such  a  mate  ! "  added  she,  as  her  hot  tears  fell  upon  poor 
Florence's  cold  hand. 


428  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Mrs.  Bousefield  now  returned,  holding  a  child  in  each  hand  ; 
nor  did  she  release  them  without  an  injunction  to  them  to  be 
very  good,  and  walk  over  to  their  mamma  on  tiptoe ;  which 
they  did,  followed  by  Alp,  their  friend  and  victim ;  for  a  moment 
regardless  of  the  hands  of  Edith  and  Murray,  that  were  held  out 
to  them,  they  stood  looking  at  their  mother.  Florence,  with 
her  frock  in  her  mouth,  and  her  little  cheeks  growing  gradually 
paler,  and  her  brother  with  his  hands  held  out  at  arms  length 
behind  his  back,  and  his  head  poked  forward  so  as  the  better  to 
scrutinize  her  face ;  at  length,  he  said,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  assembled  group,  in  a  loud,  half-angry,  half-fright- 
ened voice, — 

"  Is  mamma  dead  ?  " 

He  had  uttered  his  little  sister's  thought,  and  having  done 
so,  the  latter  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears,  and  hiding  her  face 
ao^ainst  her  mother's,  while  she  threw  her  arms  about  her  neck, 
sobbed  out — 

"  Oh  !  mamma  !  dear  mamma !  don't  die,  come  back  to  me ; 
or  do,  do,  let  me  go  with  you !  " 

"  No,  darling,  mamma  is  not  dead,  she  is  only  fainting," 
said  Edith,  hastening  to  relieve  the  child's  grief,  and  removing 
her  wnth  gentle  force  from  her  mother's  neck,  to  her  own  lap ; 
while  poor  Alp,  more  at  home  than  any  of  them  at  such  a  scene, 
gave  one  of  his  deep-toned  barks,  and  then  lightly  bounding 
(for  so  huge  an  animal)  on  the  sofa,  he  stretched  himself  at  full 
length  over  his  mistress,  and  began  licking  her  face  and  behind 
her  ears,  as  if  he  had  just  rescued  her  from  a  snow-drift,  on  the 
top  of  the  Great  St.  Bernard;  while,  as  if  oppressed  by  his 
weight,  Florence  breathed  a  faint  sigh ;  but  gave  no  additional 
sio-n  of  returnino;  consciousness. 

"  Don't  you  take  hon  so.  Miss  Flo,  there's  a  dear,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  the  little  girl  was  still  crying  violently : 
Your  poor  mar,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  his  hoften  hin  these  here  faints, 
honly  I  don't  never  let  you  see  her  in  'em  ;  for,  has  I  halways 
say,  sorrer  comes  soon  enough  to  children  without  bringing  hof 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  429 

children  to  sorrer ;  band  so  that's  the  reason,  my  dear,  has  you 
hain't  never  seen  your  mar  in  this  state  before." 

All  this  time  Murray  had  been  making  ineflectual  efforts  to 
induce  Master  Heniy  to  take  his  proffered  hand  ;  but  that  young 
gentleman  having  almost  got  a  crick  in  his  neck  by  measuring 
him  with  his  eyes,  from  head  to  foot,  now  turned  his  attention 
to  Edith,  and  with  a  precocity  of  admiration,  worthy  of  his  fa- 
ther's son,  uninvited,  walked  over  to  her,  and  put  up  his  face  to 
kiss  her. 

"  Will  you  have  the  goodness,  Barlow,"  said  Murray,  now 
taking  up  his  hat  in  order  to  go  for  Mr.  Wilmot,  "  on  no  ac- 
count to  leave  Miss  Panmuir  (this  young  lady)  while  I  am  gone, 
for  fear  this  Mr.  Henry  should  arrive  in  my  absence  ;  and  if  he 
should — as  it  is  more  than  probable  that,  for  cogent  reasons,  he 
would  barricade  his  doors  against  me  and  Mr.  Wilmot,  if  we 
announced  our  arrival  at  the  front  gate — is  there  no  other  way 
by  which  we  can  enter  without  being  seen  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,  sir,  there's  the  small  gate  has  opens  hinto 
the  'igh  road,  where  the  tradespeople  comes  to,  and  I'll  set  a 
2msson  to  watch  there  for  your  return." 

With  this  assurance  Murray  departed,  and  the  person  set  to 
watch  at  the  little  door  opening  into  the  road  was  Joe  Eoberts, 
while  the  maids  were  ordered  to  resume  their  accustomed  ward 
over  the  great  gates  at  the  corner  of  the  lane,  which,  strange  to 
say,  were  the  front  entrance.  Joe  being  at  the  back  gate,  and 
consequently  beyond  ear  and  eye  shot  of  Mrs.  Bousefield,  it  was 
astonishing  how  speedily  and  marvellously  she  recovered  her 
strength  and  activity,  which  were  exercised  in  preparing  a  suit- 
able luncheon  for  Edith ;  she  herself  superintending  the  more 
scientific  department,  decanting  the  wine  ;  but  at  the  same  time, 
\^ith  that  serai-ubiquity  of  genius,  finding  time  to  overlook  from 
the  pantry  and  upbraid  the  cook's  geographical  clumsiness 
about  the  sandwiches,  declaring  that  she  "  never  see  sich  great, 
vulgar,  ploughmen  looking  things  in  her  life;  hand  hadn't  she 
hoften  told  her  and  showed  her  'ow  sandwiches  orght  to  be  cut. 


430  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

has  they  used  to  be  hat  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Coddlecat's, 
hin  small  triangles,  such  has  hany  sparrer  might  be  hable  to  fly 
away  with,  without  hin  convenience."  And  when  the  sand- 
wiches were  at  length  reduced  to  the  critical  standard  of  ele- 
gance, and  had  become 

"Small  hy  degrees,  and  beautifully  less" — 

the  housemaid  committed  another  great  blunder  in  attempting 
to  garnish  a  cold  roast  chicken  with  plain  large-leafed  parsley, 
instead  of  that  which  is  by  nature  so  daintily  and  elaborately 
curled,  till  Mrs.  Bousefield,  flinging  it  in  her  face  in  a  passion? 
observed  that  she  wondered  she  hadn't  brought  fig  leaves,  vine 
leaves,  or  even  cabbage  leaves,  at  once.  Then  came  the  final 
mystery  of  folding  the  napkins,  which  of  course  the  widow  would 
not  intrust  to  any  deputy  ;  but  which  even  she,  with  the  high 
standards  her  memory  furnished  her  for  such  matters,  could  not 
accomplish  to  her  satisfaction. 

"  Drat  the  thing  !  I  shall  never  do  it !  somehow  or  bother  I 
can't  get  the  right  turn.  That's  hit,  no  hit  haint ;  well,  I  never 
see  such  a  fool  of  a  thing.  Ha,  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  was 
the  man  for  folding  a  napkin,  hand  laying  a  table ;  but  then  he 
was  clever  hat  heveiy think,  hand,  has  I  halways  said,  hit  was  a 
pity  as  his  talents  should  'ave  been  hid  hunder  a  napkin,  and  so 
did  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Coddlecat ;  for  has  her  ladyship 
used  to  say  to  him,  '  Bousefield,  hits  a  pity  has  you're  not  Prime 
Minister,  for  there  hain't  nothink  that  you  can't  put  a  face  upon, 
hand  make  pass  muster.'n  But  lawr!  there  aint  no  men  like 
Mr.  Bousefield  now,  I  know  ;  so  the  best  way  his  not  to  give  hit 
a  thought,  for  when  I  do,  hit  makes  me  that  low  hand  that  ner- 
vous, that  hanybody  might  knock  me  down  with  a  feather." 

Amid  these  and  similar  retrospective  regrets,  and  present  vi- 
tuperations of  the  maid's  variegated  stupidity,  Mrs.  Bousefield 
at  length  accomplished  the  arrangement  of  the  tray,  and  carried 
it  herself  into  the  drawing-room,  making  many  apologies  to 
Edith  for  the  fiugality  of  the  fare  ;  but  saying  that  hafter  Mr. 


HKIIIND    THE    SCENES.  431 

Halciphi'on  Murray's  Ijiiijiinctioiis  to  her  not  to  leave  the  room, 
she  did  not  like  to  stay  longer  away,  hand  hin  such  a  little,  hum- 
ble, poky  way  of  living,  she  was  obliged  to  see  to  hevry  hindi- 
vidjel  thing,  "  So  that  I  hope,  mum,"  concluded  she,  "  that  you 
will  kindly  hexcuse  hall  deficiencies." 

Edith  assured  her  that  everything  w^as  exceedingly  nice,  but 
that  she  was  sorry  she  should  have  taken  the  trouble  of  getting 
luncheon  for  her,  as. she  was  not  the  least  hungry.' 

Whereupon  Mrs.  Bousefield,  on  the  principle  of  doing  as  she 
would  be  done  by,  poured  out  a  large  bumper  of  port  wine,  and 
handed  it  to  her ;  which,  however,  Edith  declined  ;  but  not  to 
appear  ungracious,  after  the  ti-ouble  that  had  been  taken  on  her 
account,  she  said  she  would  have  a  biscuit  and  some  sherry  and 
water. 

"Well,  has  ?/02;  please  mum;  but  I  halways  find  that  when 
I  ham  that  low  hand  that  weak,  hand  'ave  'ad  my  nerves  hover 
hexcited  hand  hagitated,  nothing  does  me  so  much  good  has  a 
glass  hof  port  wine ;  thof,  now  that  I  'ave  not  got  poor  dear  Mr. 
Bousefield  here  to  downright  force  me  like  to  take  hit,  I  seldom 
hor  hever  touch  hany  think  hof  the  kind." 

Now  this  was  one  of  the  many  mysteries  of  Magnolia  Lodge  ; 
poor  Florence,  in  her  state,  of  course  did  not  take  wine ;  Mrs. 
Bousefield,  by  her  own  account,  never  did  either,  and  from  the 
other  maids  it  was  carefully  locked  up  ;  and  though  "  on  hos- 
pitable thoughts  intent,"  she  always  produced  it  on  the  rare  oc- 
casions that  anybody  came  there,  yet  it  w\as  generally  left  undi- 
minished, save  by  a  single  glass;  still,  when  again  wanted,  fresh 
wine  had  always  to  be  opened,  so  that  one  of  two  things  may  be 
concluded, — either  Mrs.  Bousefield  had  gleaned  from  her  hus- 
band a  sort  of  Butler's  xA.nalogy,  and  therefore  never  offered  such 
a  flat  contradiction  to  any  one  as  long  opened  wine  ;  or,  hear- 
ing so  much  about  chimneys  consuming  their  own  smoke,  she 
had  exerted  her  scientific  energies  in  the  construction  of  decan- 
ters on  the  self-absorbing  principle  of  consuming  their  own  con- 
tents. 


432  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Mrs.  Bousefield  had  scarcely  finislied  her  discourse  in  praise  of 
port,  before  a  sharp,  loud  ring  at  the  front  gate  was  heard,  which 
resounded  through  the  whole  house,  set  the  poor  baby  up  stairs 
(whom  it  awoke)  rescreaming,  and  caused  the  glasses  on  the  tray 
to  vibrate. 

"There!  there  his  that  good  for  nothink  feller !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Bousefield  ("coming  all  over  in  one  of  them  dreadful 
heats ! "). 

"  Are  you  sure  ? "  said  Edith,  turning  rather  pale,  as  her  cou- 
rage somewhat  failed  her  now  it  came  to  the  point,  at  the  idea 
of  meeting  for  the  first  time,  alone,  and  under  the  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances, so  bad  a  man. 

"  Sure,"  echoed  Mrs.  Bousefield,  "  don't  I  know  his  nasty  har- 
hitary  ring,  has  much  has  to  say,  hopen  the  door  before  you 
'ave  time  to  get  to  hit,  hor  helse  I'll  pull  the  house  down  ? " 

And  so  far  Mrs.  Bousefield  was  right,  it  ^ms  that  personage's 
peculiar  ring,  for  he  was  in  the  habit  of  springing  out  of  his 
brougham  at  some  yards  distance  from  the  door,  as  physicians 
in  great  practice  are  wont  to  do,  for  he  also,  doctor  like,  was 
anxious  to  be  "  in  at  the  death." 

Edith's  heart  almost  stood  still,  as  she  breathlessly  listened  for 
approaching  footsteps,  and  mechanically  drew  little  Florence, 
who  was  still  seated  on  her  lap,  more  closely  towards  her,  from 
an  intuitive  feeling  that  so  much  innocence  would  be  the  best 
neutralization  of  so  much  guilt;  while  Alp,  whose  keen  eye 
glared  redly  as  he  turned  it  towards  the  window,  without,  how- 
ever, quitting  his  post  by  his  mistress,  uttered  a  low  growl — 
which  was  generally  his  greeting  to  the  soi-disa7it  master  of  the 
house,  who  never  made  his  appearance  in  this  desecrated  hoine 
without  the  supererogatory  proceeding  of  leaving  it  still  more 
desolate  than  he  found  it.  Mrs.  Bousefield,  even,  held  her 
breath,  and  what  was  rarer  still,  her  tongue,  as  she  also  strained 
her  ears  to  listen  ;  while  Master  Henry  himself  appeared  daunt- 
ed, as  he  got  round  to  the  back  of  Edith's  chair,  and  there  tight- 
ly grasped  her  dress,  till  his  nails  met  in  the  palm  of  his  hand, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  433 

a  process  equally  painful  to  him  and  detrimental  to  her  silk. 
The  assembled  group  were  not  kept  long  in  suspense,  for,  hav- 
ing cleared  the  lawn  at  three  or  four  rapid  strides,  a  la  monster 
in  Frankenstein,  the  next  minute  the  clever  man  w\is  in  the  hall, 
and  had  opened  the  drawing-room  door. 

At  sight  of  Edith,  the  first  expression  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Fer- 
rars'  countenance  was  one  of  genuine  and  unmingled  astonish- 
ment !  its  next  phase  was  that  of  choking  rage,  at  having  this, 
his  stronghold,  as  he  deemed  it,  discovered;  but  the  final  tran- 
sition was  a  flash  of  demoniac  triumph,  at  having  now  got  her 
completely  into  his  toils,  beyond  his  most  sanguine  expectations 
or  his  wildest  hopes.  While  Edith,  on  her  side,  as  soon  as  she 
had  made  the  discovery  that  the  soi-disant  Mr.  Henry — the 
2)rovcd  villain,  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars — the  suspected  bad 
man — were  one  and  the  same ;  felt  such  a  reaction  of  courage, 
from  supreme  contempt,  that  she  was  now  equal  to  facing  any 
danger,  moral  or  physical,  from  the  high  vantage  ground  which 
virtue  always  occupies  when  pitted  against  vice,  and  integrity 
against  falsehood.  Hastily  recovering  his  presence  of  mind, 
and  with  it  all  his  consummate  and  cold-blooded  villany,  the 
clever  man  took  oflF  his  hat,  made  her  a  profound  bow,  and 
then,  gliding  forward  in  a  sort  of  dancing-master  second  posi- 
tion, said — 

"  Miss  Panmuir  here  !  I  confess  I  am  surprised ;  for,  notwith- 
standing the  preference  with  which  you  have  always  honoured 
me,  I  fear  the  world,  which  never  makes  any  allowance  for  a 
woman's  feelings^  w^ill  fasten  upon  you  an  indelible  impru- 
dence." 

"  The  world  !  sir,"  replied  Edith,  haughtily,  while  her  eyes 
and  cheeks  flashed  with  irrepressible  indignation,  "  when  it  is 
fully  acquainted,  as  it  soon  will  be,  with  the  long  tissue  of  your 
hitherto  only  suspected  villanies,  will  fasten  upon  me  nothing 
but  its  sympathy  for  having  escaped  from  your  dastardly  ma- 
chinations." 

"Leave  the  room,  and  take  those  brats  away!"  thundered 
19 


434  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

he,  glaring  at  Mrs.  Boiisefield,  while  in  an  abortive  grapple  at 
his  cravat,  to  loosen  it,  he  gave  it  a  tug  that  nearly  strangled 
him.  But  Mrs.  Bousefield  neither  winced  nor  moved,  firmly 
convinced  as  she  was  of  the  timely  arrival  of  the  allied  forces ; 
as  firmly  convinced  as  Napoleon  was  at  the  Battle  of  Waterloo, 
that  the  Prussians  were  Grouche's  corps ;  though,  luckily  for 
herself,  wdth  far  more  data.  Therefore  she  coolly  replied,  fold- 
ing her  arms  and  taking  her  stand  at  the  head  of  the  sofa, — 

"  I  shan't  leave  the  room,  nor  I  shan't  take  them  poor  dear 
children  away ;  nor  ham  I  going  to  leave  my  poor  dear  lady 
hin  the  state  has  hall  your  howdacious  wishusness  have  brought 
her  hinto;  hand  still  less,  hon  no  haccount  whathever,  ham  I 
going  to  leave  such  a  lawless,  good-for-nothink,  hunprincipled 
limb  has  you  hare,  halone  hand  hunpurtected  with  such  a  beau- 
tiful hand  hinnocent  young  lady  has  that  'ere.  Ere  is  a  speci- 
ment,"  added  she,  pointing  to  poor  Florence,  "  hof  what  you 
hare  capable  hof  in  that  w^ay  ;  ho  !  hif  poor  dear  Mr.  Bouse^eld 
was  but  halive !  hor  hif  I  was  but  hable  to  do  hit  myself — 
whereof  I  have  not  got  the  strength  hof  a  fly,  being  that  weak 
hand  that  nervous  that  hany  body  might  knock  me  down  with 
a  feather, — I'd  soon  serve  you  has  hall  such  good-for-nothink 
villands,  who  behaves  so  to  a  ooman,  deserves  to  be  served ;  for 
when  they  haint  got  no  'arts  nor  no  consciences  to  feel  with, 
they  orght  to  be  made  to  feel  with  their  bones,  by  'aving  hof 
hevry  one  on  'em  hin  their  skins  broken  ;  hand  then,  has  Jeze- 
bel did,  (!)  I'd  give  em  to  the  dogs,  where  they  'ad  been  going 
so  long ;  for  it  is  but  right  has  the  dogs  should  ave  hall  broken 
wittuls,  poor  dumb  hanimals  1" 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was  so  taken  aback,  so  perfectly  as- 
tounded !  at  this  unusuall}^  warlike  piece  of  declamation  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Bousefield,  that  for  several  seconds  he  could  hteral- 
ly  do  nothing  but  stare  at  her  and  gasp ;  while  she,  knowing 
him  now  to  be  down  (though  he  himself  was  not  aware  of  that 
fact),  felt  her  coward's  courage  rising,  and  was  greatly  inclined 
to  "hit  him  again." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  4  35 

Most  men,  including  good  men, — nay,  even  the  best  men, 
are  moral  cowards,  but  all  bad  men  are  especial  poltroons, 
therefore,  the  clever  and  much  bepufFed  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars, 
quailed  even  before  the  veracious  vituperations  of  a  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field,  without,  however,  quite  losing  his  aplomb ;  for,  finding 
he  could  not  get  rid  of  this  witness  to  their  interview,  he  deter- 
mined to  outrage  and  humiliate  Edith  as  much  as  possible  be- 
fore her. 

"  May  I,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  former,  with  one  of  his 
sardonic  sneers,  "  enquire — ^if  it  is  not  taking  too  great  a  liberty 
— Miss  Panrauir,  how  you  found  your  way  into  this  little  rus  in 
urbe  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  not  knowing  that  it  ivas  yours,^^  replied  Edith  • 
"but  this  poor  lady  having  fainted  at  Kensington  Church, 
where  I  happened  to  go  this  morning  with  an  old  friend  of  my 
family's,  not  unknown  to  you  by  name  (Alciphron  Murray) — 
we  brought  her  home." 

This  additional  information  of  Murray  having  discovered 
Florence's  retreat,  caused  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  to  frown, 
sharply  bite  his  lip,  and  actually  stamp  his  foot ;  but,  again  ral- 
lying, and  tightly  folding  his  arms  with  the  stern  determination 
to  "  see  it  out^''  he  again  turned  to  Edith,  and  said — 

"  Although,  Miss  Panmuir,  you  appear  to  be  so  very  sure 
of  enlisting  the  world's  sympathy  for  havilig  followed  me  to  the 
abode  of  my  mistress,  I  doubt  whether  you  can  equally  count 
upon  that  of  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale,  though  I  am  aware  that 
he  is  one  of  the  greatest  spooneys  of  modern  times." 

"It  is  flilse  !  "  cried  Edith,  indignantly,  "for  you  know — you 
base,  bad  man  ! — that,  were  not  Florence  Wilmot  your  lawful 
wife,  you  would  not  have  concealed  and  martyrized  her  as  you 
have  done ;  and  it  seems  that  it  was  for  her  death,  poor  soul ! 
that  you  were  so  willing  to  postpone  your  marriage  with  me  for 
a  few  months,  and  not  Lady  Mammonton's,  which  I  then 
thought  sufficiently  horrible,  Httle  dreaming,  at  that  time,  what 
deeper  depths  of  iniquity  you  were  plunged  into.     But  as  for 


436  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

your  cowardly  threats  about  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale,  you  may 
spare  yourself,  sir,  the  trouble  of  carrjnng  them  into  execution ; 
for  long  before  you  can  communicate  any  calumnies  to  him,  not 
only  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale,  but  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale's 
mother,  whom  I  have  sent  for,  will  be  acquainted  with  what  it 
seems  you  have  never  yet  known — the  truth." 

At  this  last  piece  of  intelligence  about  the  expected  arrival 
of  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale,  Mr.  Ponsonby"Ferrars,  foiled  for 
the  moment,  actually  hung  his  head,  while  Mrs.  Bousefield,  who 
had  hstened  with  her  eyes,  as  well  her  ears,  to  all  this,  and  had 
gleaned  from  it  two  things ;  first,  that  there  was  a  hond  fide 
real  live  duke  and  duchess  mixed  up  with  Edith  ;  and,  next, 
that  Mr.  "  Enery^''  as  he  still  was  to  her,  had  been  positively 
paying  his  addresses  to  the  former,  as  "  a  single  man  without 
encumbrances — Ho !  the  ^orrihle  villand  ! "  now  stepped  for- 
ward and  said,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  'um,  but  his  it  posserble 
that  'e  hever  'ad  the  howdacious  villany  to  make  up  to,  hand 
purpose  for  a  beautiful  young  lady  bin  your  spear  hof  life,  hand 
his  poor  dear  wife  still  living  !  " 

"  Only  last  year,"  said  Edith,  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Bousefield's 
question,  flinging  at  the  same  time,  a  look  of  withering  con- 
tempt upon  the  cowering  and  abject  figure  of  the  clever  man  (?) 

"  Hand  pray,  mum,"  resumed  Mrs.  Bousefield,  after  duly 
throwing  up  her  hands  and  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  in  the  most  ex- 
communicatory  horror  !  "  may  I  make  so  bold  has  to  bask  what 
he  called  hisself,  for  these  neferious  pupposes-,  has  I  much  doubt, 
hits  being  Mr.  'Enery  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Edith,  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  "  it  was  Mr. 
Henry  Ponsonby  Ferrars." 

"  What ! "  almost  screamed  Mrs.  Bousefield,  "  the  feller  has 
writes  hall  them  fine  books  hand  plays,  full  hof  senterment 
hand  soft-soap  !— Oh  !  the  'orrid,  solemncholy,  double-faced 
villand  !  " 

Here  the  gentleman  so  designated,  losing  all  control  over 
himself,  actually  raised  his  foot  to  administer  to  the  widow's 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  43*7 

will — at  least  it  was  not  to  her  pleasure  ;  but  she  dexterously 
avoided  receiving  tliis  striking  expression  of  his  sentiments,  by 
dodging  behind  the  sofa,  while  he,  growing  still  more  infuriated 
by  the  defeat,  seized  Edith  by  the  arm,  his  eyes  glaring  like  a 
maniac,  and  swearing  a  terrible  oath,  said, — 

"  If  I  hang  for  it !  your  friend  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale  shall 
have  cause  to  remember  that  you  have  been  here."  And,  suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  word,  in  attempting  to  drag  her  forcibly 
out  of  her  chair  to  the  door,  he  so  hurt  her  arm  that  she  gave 
a  faint  scream,  in  which  httle  Florence,  as  much  from  sympathy 
as  from  fear,  joined  ;  wdiereupon  Alp,  springing  from  the  sofa, 
and  on  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  pulled  him  down,  and  pinned 
him  to  the  ground  with  one  huge  paw,  while,  with  his  red 
tongue  and  glaring  eyes,  he  panted  defiance  at  him. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  !  some  of  you,  call  off  this  d — d  dog, 
if  you  don't  want  to  see  me  torn  to  pieces ! "  cried  the  prostrate 
man  jDiteously. 

"  Har  !  but  suppose  has  that  was  just  what  we  did  want !  " 
retorted  Mrs.  Bousefield  stoically,  "  liin  has  much  has  hit  would 
be  serving  hof  you  pufectly  right,  hif  hit  was  honly  for 
persuming  to  crown  hall  your  bother  villany,  by  laying  a 
finger  hon  this  'ere  beautiful  young  lady,  to  say  nothink  hof 
your  hinfamous  hunmanly  threats.  Blackguard  !  I  call  you 
now^  to  your  face  !  which  his  a  comfort,  as  I've  never  got 
the  chance  to  do  hit  before,  hexcept  behind  your  back,  where 
hof  course  hit  couldn't  have  the  same  benerficial  effect.  That's 
right  Halp — there's  a  good  dog — keep  him  down,  but  don't 
bite  him  for  fear  hany  think  so  wenomous  might  disagree  with 
you,  hor  heven  be  the  means  of  poisoning  hon  you." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  whose  terror  was  momentarily 
augmenting,  to  say  nothing  of  his  very  uncomfortable  and 
ridiculous  position,  now  began  to  try  the  j^ersuasive  with  his 
canine  antagonist. 

"  Poor  Alp, — j^*^*^^'  fellow  !  there,  that  will  do  ;  let  me  go 
— there's  a  good  dog." 

But  Alp's  only  reply  to  all  these  bland  entreaties,  was  a  low 


438  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

growl,  accompanied  by  a  licking  of  the  chops,  as  if  getting  his 
very  fine  and  very  sharp  teeth  into  battle  array. 

"  Barlow,  I'll  give  you  fifty  pounds  if  you'll  call  off  the 
dog." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  by  Barlow  ?  My  'usban  ivas  a  'us- 
ban  !  hand,  therefore,  gave  me  his  name,  which  I  haint  got  no 
cause  to  be  hashamed  hon,  whatever  your  poor  dear  lady  may 
have  to  howning  hof  yours ;  hand  has  for  your  fifty  pounds, 
heven  hif  I  war  to  see  sich  a  thing  belonging  to  yer,  which  I  never 
'ave  yet,  I  should  scorn  to  take  hit,  when  your  poor,  dear  wife 
his  hobleeged  to  sell  not  honly  the  trinkets  has  she  'ad  has  a 
young  lady,  but  heven  to  the  Queen  Hehzabeth's  hair-looms  hof 
her  famly,  to  get  the  commonest  necessaries  for  herself  han  her 
poor  dear  children  ! — er-r-r-r-r  !  you  good  for  nothink  villand  ! 
— blackguard,  I  call  you  !  " 

Modestly  waiving  all  allusion  to  these  numerous  compli- 
ments, the  clever  man  replied  in  a  voice  that  was  at  once  the 
model  of  courtesy  and  humility, — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Mrs.  Bousefield,  I  meant ;  but  you 
look  so  young  that  no  wonder  I  sometimes  mistake  and  give 
you  your  maiden  name  ;  but  I'll  give  you  a  hundred  pounds — 
pon  my  honour  I  will — if  you'll  call  off  this  d — d  dog." 

"  I  don't  want  none  hof  your  carneying,  hand  hif  I  do  look 
young  I'm  not  so  green  has  to  be  corght  by  hany  of  your  fly- 
fishing baits  ;  hand  has  for  your  'undreds,  you  may  keep  'um 
for  me  ;  hand  heven  hif  I  could  demean  myself  so  far  has  to 
haccept  hanythink  hof  the  sort  from  you,  has  you  make  hit  a 
promissary  payment  hon  your  honour  !  why,  lawr  !  I  should 
have  so  far  to  seek  for  hit  that  I  fear  has  five  times  the  sum 
would  be  consumed  hin  travelHng  hexpenses,  hand  throwing 
good  money  hafter  bad,  has  the  saying  his." 

Thus  goaded,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  would  have  almost  com- 
pounded for  a  bite  from  the  dog,  if  he  could  have  relieved  his  mind 
by  hurling  a  hearty  d — n  at  the  widow,  for  pronouncing  this 
inaugural  address  to  his  personal  debut  in  the  infernal  regions ; 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  439 

for,  to  a  man  of  bis  stilted  pomposity  of  character,  and  mock 
dignity  of  disposition,  accustomed  too,  as  be  was,  to  be  gorged 
witb  tbe  garbage  of  claptrap  adulation,  tbere  was  something  far 
more  humiliating,  and  therefore  more  irritating,  in  the  ludi- 
crousness  of  his  physical  position,  than  even  in  this  coarse  and 
pitiless  unmasking  of  all  his  vices,  but,  as  invariably, — 

"  Pardon  to  the  injured  dotli  belong." — 

not  only  did  Editb  feel  a  touch  of  compassion  for  his  at  once 
mortifying  and  perilous  situation  ;  but  she  also  felt,  as  she 
glanced  at  his  poor  unconscious  victim  on  the  sofa,  that  there 
was  something  horribly  irreverend,  not  to  say  sacrilegious,  in 
letting  anything  bordering  on  the  ridiculous  endure  in  the 
presence  of  this  similitude  of  death,  and  und^r  the  very  shadow 
of  so  great,  though,  for  the  time  being,  so  mute  a  sorrow." 
Therefore,  lowering  the  sleeve  of  her  dress,  which  Mrs.  Bouse- 
field  had  raised  to  rub  her  arm,  she  said,  as  she  turned  to  him, — 

"  If,  sir,  you  will  promise  me  on  the  honour  of  a  gentleman 
— for  I  believe  your  creed  extends  no  farther — not  again  to  pre- 
sume to  approach  me,  I  will  call  the  dog  off;  but  remember,  at 
the  first  intimation  of  the  slightest  infringement  of  this  compact, 
it  is  very  easy  to  set  him  at  you  again,  and  somewhat  more  ef- 
fectually ;  "  for  from  her  recently  acquired  knowledge  of  his 
craft  and  his  cowardice,  she  thought  it  quite  necessary  to  throw 
out  the  latter  hint. 

"  I  give  you  my  honour  I  will  leave  the  house  instantly,  if 
you  will  call  him  off,"  said  he  eagerly. 

But  that  was  not  exactly  what  Edith  wanted,  as  it  was  high- 
ly necessary  for  poor  Florence's  sake,  that  he  should  be  confront- 
ed with  Mr.  Wilmot  and  Murray.  Luckily,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, she  saw  through  the  only  half-drawn  down  French  blind 
of  a  side  window,  the  two  latter,  hurrying  across  the  kitchen 
garden  ;  so  again  repeating  her  question,  merely  to  gain  a  few 
seconds  more  time,  she  said,  "  So  then  I  may  rely  upon  you  ?  " 

"  I  give  you  my  oath,  if  you  hke  it  better." 


440  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Alp  !  Alp  !  here,  poor  fellow  ! "  said  she,  lightly  patting 
Florence.  The  next  instant  the  dog  had  relinquished  his  hold, 
and  bounded  to  his  former  post  on  the  sofa.  Once  more  free, 
Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  grinding  his  teeth, 
and  shaking  his  clenched  hand,  seized  his  hat,  about  to  rush  out 
of  the  house,  big  with  schemes  of  the  blackest  vengeance  ;  but 
just  as  he  had  pulled  open  the  drawing-room  door,  so  violently 
as  to  be  almost  thrown  back  by  the  rebound,  he  was  in  reality 
pushed  back  more  substantially  by  the  stalwart  form  of  Murray, 
who,  collaring  him,  prevented  his  egress  with  one  hand,  while, 
having  shut  the  door  and  kept  his  back  against  it,  he  barred 
its  passage  by  holding  up  his  stout  oaken  stick  with  the 
other. 

"  Hell  and  fuiy  !  "  exclaimed  Ferrars,  livid  with  rage,  and 
struggling  desperately,  but  impotently,  against  Murray's  Hercu- 
lean strength, — "  a  foul  conspiracy ! " 

"  Most  foul !  "  repeated  Murray. 

Mr.  Wilmot,  who  on  entering  the  room,  had  at  once  hasten- 
ed forward  to  the  sofa,  and  there  kneeling  beside  his  inanimate 
child,  had  bathed  her  in  his  teai-s,  and  embalmed  her  in  bless- 
ings ;  so  that  his  son-in-law  only  now,  upon  despairingly  look- 
ing round  for  help,  for  the  fii-st  time  perceived  him. 

"  Cowards  ! "  muttered  he,  "  two  against  one  ! " 

"Nay,  you  don't  state  the  matter  fairly,"  said  Murray — 
"  two  men  against  one  fiend  is  surely  not  too  much  odds,  espe- 
cially as  the  sacred  calling  of  one  of  the  twain  precludes  his 
using  all  human  weapons." 

"Villain  !"  cried  the  other;  "you  forget  that  we  are  in  a 
free  country,  and  that  every  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle  ! 
by  what  authority  dare  you  then  enter  mine,  and  threaten  me  in 
this  cowardly  manner  ?  " 

"  /,"  replied  Murray,  first  touching  with  Ijis  finger  his  own 
breast,  and  then  pointing  to  Mr.  Wilmot,  "  7,  by  the  heaven- 
delegated  authority  of  justice  and  humanity.  He  by  the  equally 
indisputable  one  of  blood !  for  your  victim  is  that  old  man's 
only  child  !  are  you  answered  now  ? " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  441 

On  hearing  this,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  upraised  and  threat- 
ening arm  fell  heavily  and  powerlessly  by  his  side,  like  that  of 
a  corpse,  while  his  head  as  suddenly  drooped,  and  his  pale  eyes 
were  raised  fearfully  over  his  blanched  cheeks,  as  he  slowly  turn- 
ed, with  a  muscular  and  tremulous  motion  of  the  jaw,  his  coward 
gaze  on  Mr.  Wilmot,  w^hose  face  he  had  never  before  seen,  nor 
did  he  see  it  then,  for  it  was  hidden  on  his  daughter's  shoulder. 
But  if  the  spoiler's  cheek  did  blench,  if  his  eye  did  pale,  and  his 
heart  quail  at  the  presence  of  the  man  he  had  so  injured, — it  w^as 
not  with  the  terrible  but  salutary  conscience-quake  of  remorse  ! 
— for  as  there  are  soils  so  parched  and  arid  that  not  even  a  bram- 
ble can  spring  up  in  them,  so  are  there  souls  so  seared  and  cal- 
cined by  sin,  that  not  even  the  graceful  weed  of  an  unavailing 
regret  can  waive  above  their  devastation,  to  show  that  better 
things  mighty  had  they  been  planted,  have  flourished  there  !  N'o; 
this  bad  man  cowered,  because,  having  been  thus  suddenly  de- 
spoiled of  his  leaden  cloak  of  hypocrisy  and  his  mumming  mask 
of  morality !  he  felt  himself  caught  in  his  own  springe,  and 
toiled  in  his  own  snare ;  and  there  is  no  torture  that  a  knave 
writhes  under  equal  to  that,  by  which  the  jugglery  of  fate  com- 
pels him  to  take  the  fool's  part  of  being  compassed  and  se- 
cured. 

"  It  appears,"  said  Murray,  eyeing  the  clever  man  with  a  mix- 
ture of  ineftable  contempt  and  disgust,  "  that  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars'  college  reputation  by  no  means  belied  him  ! " 

A  scowl  and  a  sneer,  was  the  only  answer  he  vouchsafed  to 
this  remark. 

Mr.  Wilmot  who,  after  his  first  uncontrolable  paroxysm  of 
convicting  feelings,  had  prayed  himself  calm,  now  raised  his 
head,  induced  to  do  so  by  poor  Alp's  sympathizing  and  silent 
caresses. 

"  Go,"  whispered  Edith  to  little  Florence,  through  her  own 
ill-suppressed  sobs,  "  and  kiss  that  gentleman,  he  is  your  grand- 
papa."    The  child,  who  had  hitherto  clung  tightly  to  Edith,  now 
relaxed  her  grasp,  and  attracted  by  Mr.  Wilmot's  benevolent 
19* 


442  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

face  (for  children,  like  dogs,  are  great  physiognomists)  instantly 
advanced  towards  him,  and  placing  her  little  hand  on  his, 
looked  up  in  his  face,  and  said  timidly,  but  earnestly, — 

"  Grandpapa,  will  you  kiss  me  ?  " 

His  only  reply  was  to  lift  her  up  and  press  her  to  his  heart; 
and  after  he  had  repeatedly  kissed  her,  he  said,  struggling  -with 
his  tears, — 

"  May  God  bless !  and  guard  you  my  poor  little  darling  !  " 

Master  Henry,  who  had  strong  masculine  notions  upon 
equality  of  rights  and  participation,  in  an  inverse  ratio,  now 
came  forward  from  his  hiding  place  also,  and  taking  possession 
of  Mr.  Wilmot's  knee,  which  he  clasped  with  both  his  arms, 
cried  out,  looking  up  at  him, — 

"  If  you  are  Flo's  grandpapa,  you  are  mine  too ;  so  kiss 
Harry  ? " 

A  request  that  was  instantly  complied  with  by  the  poor 
hearted-stricken  old  man,  who  for  several  seconds  pressed  both 
his  grandchildren  convulsively  to  his  bosom,  as  if  trying  to  ar- 
rest a  refracted,  but  fugitive  ray  of  hope  ! 

"  Sir,"  said  Edith,  gently,  "  your  daughter  is  only  in  a  swoon  ; 
and  is  it  not  fortunate  that  she  will  be  spared  a  painful  scene? 
and  but  awaken  to  the  delightful  consciousness  of  seeing  you, 
and  hearing  your  blessing ! " 

"  I  thank  you,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  he,  putting  down 
the  children,  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  her,  "  for  reminding 
me,  that  even  through  our  darkest  trials,  there  is  always  some 
clear  space  of  mercy  !  through  which  we  can  look  up  to  heaven, 
and  thank  God !  And  now,  sir,"  added  he,  sternly,  as  he  turn- 
ed to  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  "  who,  and  what  are  you  ?  and 
when  and  where  did  you  marry  my  daughter  ?  " 

"  To  answer  your  questions  categorically,  old  gentleman,"  re- 
pHed  that  personage,  with  the  most  exasperating  insolence,  for 
the  villain  was  again  buoyantly  in  the  ascendant ;  "  first,  in  re- 
gard to  who  I  am — a  celebrity,  therefore,  of  course  unknown  to 
you  !  next,  in  regard  to  w^hat  I  am — a  gentleman  ;  therefore  I 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  443 

shan't  stand  any  bullying  !  thirdly,  as  to  when  I  married  your 
daughter — at  no  time !  fourthly,  where  did  I  marry  her — 
nowhere !  I  believe  these  were  all  your  queries  ;  and 
now  there's  the  door,"  concluded  he,  pointing  to  it  in  the 
most  insolent  manner,  "  and  the  sooner  you  transfer  yourself  to 
the  outside  of  it,  the  better  for  yourself,  and  the  more  agreeable 
to  me." 

Mrs.  Bousefield,  who  ever  since  the  entrance  of  Murray  and 
Mr.  Wilmot,  had  been  sobbing  with  a  forty  widow  power,  now 
exploded  into  a  perfect  hurricane  of  indignation  ! — 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Wilmot,  sir  !  don't  you  believe  him  !  hof  hall  the 
howdacious  whoppingest  hof  hes,  heven  for  him !  that  his 
biggest !  for  they  was  married  hat  Folkestone,  by  a  clergyman 
hof  the  name  hof  Grant,  when  they  fust  'loped  hoff,  before  they 
started  hon  their  furrin  tower,  which  I'm  sure  was  hany  thing 
but  a  tower  of  strength  to  her  !  poor  dear  young  lady ;  hand 
when  fust  I  come  to  her,  last  year,  fearing  has  that  'orrid  villand 
there  might  get  hold  hon  it,  and  destroy  hit,  has  he  'ave  done 
her,  she  give  me  her  marriage  suttificut  to  take  care  hof,  hand  I 
did  take  special  care  hof  hit,  hand  'ave  got  hit  safe  hand  sound, 
but  not  in  this  'ouse,  for  I  placed  hit  hin  the'ands  hof  my  solici- 
tors ;  hand  they  his  halso  Barclay  hand  Perkins's  solicitors,  has 
Mr.  Bousefield  used  to  'ave  hall  our  beer  hand  hale  from  them 
when  we  was  hin  business  ;  hand  I  honly  wish  as  Barclay  hand 
Perkins's  men  'ad  hold  hof  that  'orrid  villand  there,  that  they 
might  serve  him  hout,  has  they  did  that  there  furrin  ginral, 
who  didn't  deserve  it,  no  not  one  'arf  so  bad — er-r-r-r-r  !  But 
lawr  !  heven  long  before  I  married  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield,  I 
halways  hated  them  turnip-faced,  carroty  whiskered  men,  they 
haint  never  no  good,  you  may  depend  hon  it." 

At  this  mention  of  the  safe  custody  of  the  marriage  certifi- 
cate, the  headlong  torrent  of  ungovernable  passion  swept  away 
every  landmark  of  prudence  from  the  clever  man,  and  though 
still  under  Murray's  iron  grasp,  he  shook  his  clenched  hand,  and 
stamped  his  foot  at  Mr.  Wilmot,  ordering  him  instantly  to  quit 
his  house. 


444  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Not,"  said  the  former,  with  calm  determination,  "  till  my 
daughter  is  able  to  leave  it  with  me,  and  till  the  whole  world  is 
informed  that  she  leaves  it,  and  has  lived  in  it  as  your  wife  1 " 
"  Stupid  1  idiotic !  old  fool ! "  hissed  Mr.  Ponsouby  Ferrars, 
now  becoming  actually  rabid  with  impotent  rage  ;  "  you  seem 
to  forn-et  the  admirable  laws  we  live  under,  w^hich  so  justly  and 
so  properly  give  to  a  husband,  under  all  circumstances,  the  sole 
and  unlimited  control  over  his  own  wife ;  therefore  attempt  to 
remove  her  at  your  peril,  old  dotard  1 " 

"  I  do  not  indeed  forofet ;  for  who  with  a  heart  or  a  conscience 
can  forget  it,"  rephed  Mr.  Wilmot ;  "  not  only  the  total  want  of 
all  protection  for  married  woman,  which  disgraces  our  civil  code 
in  this  age  of  boasted  progression,  but  the  still  greater  blot  on 
it,  of  the  slave  trade  power  over  them,  which  it  places  indiscri- 
minately in  the  strong  hands  of  their  too  often  unmanly  mas- 
ters.* Neither  do  I  forget,  that  for  the  thousand  murderous 
vices  of  which  the  law  takes,  and  can  take  no  cognizance,  and 
for  which  public  opinion  can  be  the  only  moral  police,  how 
often  that  moral  police  is  w\iylaid  on  its  beat,  and  prevented 
coming  to  the  rescue  of  the  oppressed,  by  having  its  lantern 
puffed  out  by  some  counterblast  of  falsehood.     It  shall  now  be, 

*  Upon  this  subject  the  Editor  of  "  The  London  Journal,"  in  ]S"o.  464, 
Yol.  XYII.  of  his  excellent  paper,  has  the  following  admirable  remarks. 
— "  We  must  persist  in  saying  that  before  the  position  of  women  can 
be  improved,  they  must  be  secured  against  ill-treatment  by  a  judicious 
alteration  in  their  legal  position.  They  must  be  less  the  slaves  of  men 
than  they  are.  A  wife  must  be  allowed  to  have  property  of  her  own 
— a  husband  must  not  be  allowed  to  plunder  his  wife — her  private 
purse  must  be  protected  as  it  is  in  France — and,  aboA-eall,  facilities  for 
obtaining  divorces  must  be  multiplied.  The  old  idea  that  marriage  is 
a  sacrament  must  be  discarded,  and  the  contract  interpreted  by  the 
plain  rules  of  common  sense  and  business.  "We  are  satisfied  that  until 
this  has  been  done,  the  position  of  women  in  these  islands  must  remain 
degraded,  and  that  all  corrective  legislation  levelled  against  bad  hus- 
bands will  but  serve  to  exasperate  their  vicious  propensities,  and,  as  a 
consequence,  aggravate  the  already  sufficiently  miserable  and  unpro- 
tected condition  of  their  wives." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  446 

my  care  to  prevent  this  contre  temps  occurnng  as  regards  my 
poor  martyred  child  ;  so  let  me  advise  you,  more  for  your  own 
sake  than  for  hers,  not  by  further  outrages  to  make  matters 
worse  than  they  already  are." 

The  clever  man,  who,  even  in  his  most  volcanic  furies,  had 
always  a  keen  eye  to  his  own  interest,  now  began  to  think 
that  it  would  be  desirable,  at  all  hazards,  to  escape,  if  but  for  a 
few  hours,  from  Magnolia  Lodge  and  the  surveillance  of  Murray 
and  Mr.  Wilmot,  were  it  only  to  put  himself  en  rapjport  with 
his  own  especial  press-gang  of  Blackiswhite  and  Co. — not  for 
the  purpose  of  table-turning,  but  for  that  of,  if  possible,  turning  the 
tables,  by  getting  all  sorts  of  garbled  statements  and  counter- 
statements  inserted  in  the  papers,  respecting  his  marriage  with 
Florence,  so  that  the  "  web  of  wiles,"  without  even  "  one  thread 
of  candour,"  might  puzzle  the  Lord  Chancellor  himself,  if  ever 
the  matter  came  before  him ;  but,  above  all,  in  order  to  mys- 
tify Lady  Mammonton  in  such  an  effectual  manner,  that  the  di- 
gestive organs  of  her  credulity  might  be  prepared  to  receive  any 
amount  o^friandises  in  the  way  of  falsehoods,  which  he  might, 
when  hard  run,  find  it  expedient  to  regale  her  with. 

All  this  duly,  though  instantaneously,  weighed,  he  advanced 
towards  Mr.  Wilmot,  though  still  unreleased-,  and  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Murray,  and  said — 

"  Upon  reflection,  I  am  willing  to  waive  my  prior  rights  as 
a  husband  in  favor  of  yours — whatever  you  may  choose  to  call 
them — as  a  father  ;  for,  mind,  your  daughter,  o^ce  another  man's 
wife,  the  law  allows  you  no  longer  any  rights  over  her,  as  it  very 
properly  does  not  admit  that  a  mother  is  any  relation  to  her 
child.  For,  as  in  religion,  all  ci\-iHzed  nations  only  allow  of  one 
God,  so  the  admirable  law  of  England,  in  its  ecclesiastical  sta- 
tutes, only  recognizes  one  power,  and  that  power  is  the  hus- 
band's! still,  as  I  said  before,  I  am  ready  to  waive  this,  my 
just  and  legal  authority,  and  leave  you  here  for  to-day  ;  but 
you  surely  cannot  be  so  unreasonable  as  to  want  me  to  witness 
any  more  scenes  ;  so  here  is  my  card  ;  and,  as  you  will  now 


446  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

know  where  to  find  me,  of  course  you  will  not  think  of  detain- 
ing rne  here  by  force." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Wilmot ;  "  but  I  have  one  ques- 
tion still  to  ask  you,  your  answer  to  which  is  of  the  most  vital 
importance  to  me.  I  think  you  asserted,  a  short  time  ago,  that 
you  were  a  gentleman^ 

"  Sir  !"  thundered  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  his  eyes  flashing 
forked  lightning. 

"  Because,"  resumed  Mr.  Wilmot,  "  in  that  character  I  can- 
not reconcile  your  positive  denial  of  ever  having  married  my 
daughter,  with  your  now  strenuous  insistance  on  your  marital 
rights  and  conjugal  power  over  her ;  which  of  these  statements 
do  you  choose  me  to  beheve  ?  for  either  will  now  answer  my 
purpose  equally  well." 

Here  was  a  second  ridiculous  position  this  great  man  had 
been  placed  in  that  morning  :  but  so  little  do  we  know  at  what 
we  rejoice,  or  at  what  we  tremble  in  this  world,  that,  as  he 
saw  the  smile,  like  a  gleam  of  sunshine,  that  passed  over  Edith's 
face,  at  this  coup  d^Hat  of  Mr.  Wilmot's,  while  Mrs.  Bousefield 
was  actually  desecrating  the  Sabbath,  by  clapping  her  hands, 
and  crying  hray-vo  !  in  the  most  indecorous  manner,  as  if  she 
had  been  at  Sadler's  Wells,  and  was  witnessing  the  lady  in  red 
cotton. velvet,  strutting  Statira  to  Master  Muffinton's  Alexander 
the  Great.  The  clever  man  even  felt  grateful  to  a  knock  at  the 
drawing-room  door,  which  at  this  critical  moment,  served  as  a 
diversion  in  his  favour.  But  the  knock  not  being  responded  to, 
the  door  was  presently  opened,  and  Joe  Roberts,  putting  in  his 
head,  made  all  sorts  of  telegraphic  signs  to  Mrs.  Bousefield ;  but 
she,  signing  back  to  say  that  she  was  particularly  engaged  at  that 
moment,  and  could  not  come,  and  he  not  understanding  the 
sign,  wdiich  was  no  wonder,  he  next  tried  in  a  stag^  whisper, 
bounded  on  the  right  by  his  hand,  and  on  the  left  by  the  draw- 
ing-room wall — 

"  Please  marm,  you're  wanted  ;  the  furrin  lady  about  poor 
Jack." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  447 

"  Ho  !  very  well,  I'll  come  directly,"  said  the  widow  ;  but, 
before  she  had  got  half  the  way  across  the  room,  Fraulein,  with 
true  German  sans  gene,  passed  Joe,  and  made  her  way  into  the 
drawing-room,  her  elaborately  ugly  face  shining  with  delight  all 
over  its  high  cheek-bones,  like  a  card  of  new,  flat,  brass  buttons, 
at  the  idea  of  the  glad  tidings  she  had  to  impart.  Having 
bobbed  her  Medusa-like  black  ringlets  in  all  directions,  collec- 
tively, and  individually,  to  the  assembled  group,  she  no  sooner 
espied  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  (upon  whom,  in  truth,  no  Medusa, 
fabled  or  real,  could  have  produced  a  more  petrifying  effect !) 
notwithstanding  which,  with  that  truly  Christian  spirit  of  re- 
turning good  for  evil,  which  some  victims  are  capable  of  to  the 
last,  her  face  again  became  more  broadly  rayonnante,  its  gro- 
tesque ughness,  of  coui-se,  widening  in  proportion  to  the  breadth 
of  light  thrown  upon  it. 

"  Ah  !  how  ver  goote  of  you,"  cried  she,  apostrophising  her 
transfixed /riencZ,  and  showing  all  her  very  red  gums  and  very 
yellow  teeth,  via  an  extensive  grin  of  delighted  surprise,  "  ver, 
ver  kint  of  you  to  coame  here  befores  me,  to  tell  to  dese  poor 
peoples  de  goot  news  dat  you  haves  writtens  to  de  governors  of 
de  convictions  abouts  dat  poor  boy — poor  Jauque  !  Ah  !  shoak- 
ino;s !  shoakino-s  !  I  am  nussino;s  boat  de  o-oose-skins  ven  /tiuks 
of  him." 

"Well,  well,  yes,  I  have  written  and  done  all  I  could ;  but 
do,  for  Heaven's  sake,  get  out  of  this  place,  and  I  will  join  you 
in  a  moment;  just  wait  in  the  lane  for  me,"  hastily  muttered 
the  clever  man,  in  an  agony  of  conflicting  terrors,  looking  and 
nodding  at  the  window  as  he  spoke,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  There, 
there,  make  haste :  do  go  at  once." 

But  the  more  he  motioned,  and  the  more  he  muttered,  the 
more  Fraulein  opened  her  large,  truly  oyster- looking  eyes,  and 
the  more  her  German  dulness  lingered  to  ask  an  explanation — 
a  logical  solution  of  why  she  was  to  decamp  in  such  haste  ? 
She,  who  had  come  armed  to  the  teeth  with  shawls,  clogs,  and 
Berlin  comforters  for  w^alking  home  ;  being  convinced  that  she 


44-8  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

should  be  asked  to  spend  the  day  at  MagnoHa  Lodge,  and  being 
equally  determined  to  accept  the  invitation,  she  had  no  notion 
of  relinquishing  this  id^e  fixe  without  at  least  a  struggle  to  re- 
tain it.  So,  now  advancing  three  steps  farther  from  the  door 
into  the  room,  each  of  which  steps  were  like  so  many  nails 
driven  with  a  sledge-hammer  into  the  maddeningly-perplexed 
chaos  of  the  clever  man's  brain,  she  said,  in  the  most  infuriating 
affectionate  gentleness  and  German  phlegm — 

"  Non,  non  ;  I  vills  vaits  for  you,  since  you  coame  so  soons." 

And  as  she  spoke,  her  eye,  for  the  first  time,  fell  upon  the 
reclining  figure  of  Florence,  which  the  group  around  the  sofa 
had  hitherto  hidden  from  her  view. 

"  Ah  !  dat  poor  lady,  how  ills,  how  pales  she  lookc  ?     Who 
is  she?" 

"  Mrs.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  that  bold  bad  man's  wife^''  said 
Edith,  pointing  at  the  latter — for  she  had  heard  the  Duchess  of 
Liddesdale  say  the  year  before,  that  she  firmly  believed  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrai-s  had  palmed  off"  one  of  his  mistresses  as  a  Ger- 
man governess  to  Mrs.  Piers  Moncton. 

"  It  is  false !  it  is  nots !  it  cannots  be  true !  say  it  is  nots 
true,"  shrieked  the  poor  creature,  seizing  him  by  both  lapels  of 
his  coat,  and  looking  at  him  so  intensely,  and  bringing  her  face 
so  near  to  him  that  it  might  w^ell  have  appalled  !  a  stouter  and 
truer  heart  than  his. 

"  Of  course  it's  not,"  muttered  the  cowardly  wretch. 

"  And  these  are  his  children,  wdiom  he  would  brand  with 
infamy,  as  well  as  their  mother !  "  added  Mr.  Wilmot. 

"  Nor  that  haint  all  neither ! "  cried  Joe  Roberts,  now  bursting 
into  the  room — for  upon  Fraulein's  entrance,  from  the  moment 
he  had  espied  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  he  had  remained  glued  to 
the  door. — "  For  Fm  sorry  to  say,  marm,  hif  he  is  the  person  as 
you  happlied  to,  to  hinterest  hisself  about  poor  Jack,  you  got 
hold  of  the  wrong  sow  by  the  ear ;  for  it  haint  likely  that  he — 
his  hown  hunnatrel  father,  who  left  the  poor  boy  to  starve  from 
his  birth,  hafter  doing  the  same  by  his  mother  afore  him,  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  449 

never  give  bim  a  single  thing  with  the  exception  of  one  bad  sov- 
ereign, bunder  the  pertence  of  charity,  which  it  w^as  all  along 
of  passing  that  'ere  bad  money  that  the  poor  lad  got  ruinated, 
hand  sent  bout  of  the  country.  So  'taint  likely  has  he'd  hinter- 
cede  to  do  hanythink  to  help  bim,  onless  indeed  hit  was  to  help 
bim  hup  the  ladder  to  the  gallows,  arter  'aving  shoved  him  so 
well  along  the  road  to  hit ;  honly  hit's  a  pity  but  what  he  was 
there  fust  to  receive  bim  ;  but  for  that  matter  in  this  world, 
beven  the  gibbet  don't  get  hits  due — more's  the  pity  !  for  if  it 
did,  honest  folks  would  have  a  better  time  on  it." 

At  this  last  blow,  poor  Fraulein  uttered  no  further  doubts  or 
questions ;  she  only  stared  wildly  as  if  all  sense  save  that  of 
suflfering  had  fled,  as  for  some  seconds  she  kept  writhing  her 
interlaced  fingers  in  and  out ;  and  then  walking  over  to  the  sofa, 
she  dropped  a  low  curtsey  before  the  inanimate  Florence,  and 
pressing  both  her  hands  upon  her  heart,  as  if  to  keep  it  within 
its  proper  boundary,  she  said,  in  a  broken  and  husky  voice — 

"  Oh,  mine  Got !  I  beg  your  pardons,  poor  lady,  but  I  did 
nots,  indeed  I  did  nots  know !  and  de  poor  Garman  girls  vill 
now  go  to  vhere  dere  is  no  more  sins,  and  vhere  she  take  all 
de  punishments  of  vot  she  'ave  dones — but  he  did  so  promise 
to  make  me  his  vifes  ! " 

She  then  turned  slowly  aw\^y,  and  walked  solemnly  and  ab- 
stractedly forward,  like  a  person  walking  in  their  sleep,  till  she 
came  near  Ferrars,  who  was  standing  with  his  arms  tightly 
folded,  and  his  eyes  doggedly  fixed  upon  the  ground,  and  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  elongated  downwards  till  they  gave  him  a 
look  of  the  most  revolting  cynicism. 

"May  Got  forgives  you  !  you  bad  mans ;  for  de  bells  you 
have  made  for  many,  and  for  de  hells  you  sends  me  to.  Mine 
poor  mooter !  mine  poor  mooter !  but  Lady  Moncton  pay  to  her 
what  is  owe  to  me — yes,  yes,  all  dat  is  owe  will  be  paid,  and 
Got  will  repay  you  !  so  I  vill  not  leave  you  no  curse  beyond 
your  MEMORY  !  be  is  de  bad  man's  vorst  curse  !  " 

With  this  she  left  the  room,  and  the  next  moment  was  seen 
rushing  across  the  lawn  with  a  sort  of  supernatural  speed. 


460  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"For  Heaven's  sake!"  cried  Murray,  seizing  his  hat,  and 
turning  to  Joe,  "  let  us  go  after  that  poor  creature.  She  is  evi- 
dently in  no  state  to  be  left  to  herself." 

Mr.  Wilmot  turned  his  face  and  groaned  under  these  re- 
peated overflowings  of  his  cup  of  misery.  Edith  and  the  widow 
were  sobbing  violently — the  latter  now  in  all  sincerity  ;  while 
the  poor  children  had  got  up  into  a  corner,  pale  and  frightened, 
where  they  were  tightly  holding  each  other's  hands,  and  poor 
Alp  was  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  assembled  group, 
with  an  occasional  little  low  whine,  and  that  nervous  twitching 
of  the  ears  which  is  an  infallible  symptom  of  canine  mental  in- 
quietude, particularly  when  accompanied  with  tremulousness. 

No  sooner  had  Murray  and  Joe  Roberts  cleared  the  outer 
gate,  than  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  taking  advantage  of  his  re- 
covered liberty,  unfolded  his  arms,  snatched  up  his  hat,  and  not 
staying  to  interrogate  the  glass  as  to  its  adjustment,  said — 

"  A  i^easant  morning  I  have  Tiad  of  it ! "  and  the  next 
minute,  after  furiously  slamming  to  the  drawing-room  door,  he 
was  seen  whizzing  across  the  lawn,  like  an  express  train,  and  as 
soon  as  he  had  banged  the  garden-gate  after  him,  the  retreating 
sound  of  his  carriage-wheels  and  his  horses'  hoofs  (not  his  own, 
as  he  seldom  walked)  was  heard,  and  when  their  echoes  had 
died  quite  away^  every  one  (with  the  exception  of  Florence)  in 
that  little  room  breathed  more  freely,  including  the  dog. 

Mrs.  Bousefield,  as  might  be  ex|3jected,  was  the  first  to  find, 
what  she  so  seldom  lost,  her  tongue,  which  she  attuned  to  the 
following  jubilation : 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  riddance,  hat  hall  events.  Hand  now, 
sir,  hif  you  please"  (turning  to  Mr.  Wilmot),  "I'll  tiy  and  get 
my  poor  dear  lady  hup  to  bed ;  hand  what  a  mussy,  to  be  sure, 
to  think  that  it  should  'ave  so  'appened  that  she  was  hin  this 
state,  not  to  'ave  'eard  and  seen  hall  that  'orrid  villand's  haddi- 
tional  goings  hon — blackguard  !  I  call  him — er-r-r-r- !  Hif  my 
'usban  'ad  honly  served  me  the  'arf  hof  it,  I  think  I'd  'ave 
squeeged  him  down  hinto  the  smallest  pint  pot  that  hever  was 
made  for  the  largest  'ouse  hof  business  ! " 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  451 

"  I  bad  better  go  into  anotber  room,"  said  Mr.  Wilmot,  "  for 
fear,  in  moving  ber,  you  migbt  rouse  ber,  and  suddenly  seeing 
me  sbould  bave  a  fatal  eflfect  upon  ber." 

"  Not  tbe  least  fear  of  tbat,  sir.  I  now  know  tbe  process 
hof  one  bof  tbese  bere  bouts  so  well,  tlmt  2)raps  sbe  won't  come 
bout  bof  bit  till  twelve  bor  one  o'clock  to-nigbt,  band  praps  not 
beven  tben ;  for  I  ^ave  known  tbem  last  for  fifteen  to  sixteen 
Aours." 

"  If  you  are  quite  sure  of  tbat,  I  will  carry  ber  up  to  bed 
myself." 

"  You  may,  sir,  witb  2>ufect  safety." 

And  tbe  old  man  lifted  bis  long  lost  cbild,  bis  stray  lamb, 
gently  in  bis  arms ;  and  ber  almost  impalpable  weigbt  preacbed 
bim  anotber  sermon  upon  tbe  ligbtness  and  vanity  of  all  buman 
ties !  Still,  as  be  raised  bis  streaming  eyes  to  Heaven,  gratitude 
was  tbeir  cbief  expression  ;  and,  in  trutb,  be  was  silently  tbank- 
ing  God  for  allowing  tbe  last  breaker  of  tbe  stormy  sea,  on  wbicb 
be  bad  so  long  been  tossed,  to  roll  back  to  bim  even  tbis  pre- 
cious fragment  of  tbe  wreck ! 

"  Will  you,"  said  Editb  to  Mrs.  Bouspfield,  "  bave  tbe  good- 
ness to  let  me  know  wben  ^Irs.  Ferrars  is  in  bed,  and  I  will  go 
up  to  ber  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure,  mum,  you're  very  kind,  very  mucb  so  ;  but  do 
pray  heat  sometbink  fust,  bor,  like  myself,  you'll  be  tha  t  weak 
band  that  nervous  tbat  banybody  migbt  knock  you  down  witb 
a  featber." 

Editb  promised  Mrs.  Bousefield  tbat  sbe  would  endeavour  to 
avoid  tbat  catastropbe,  and  little  Florence  said  to  ber,  as  soon  as 
Mr.  Wilmot  bad  carried  ber  uiotber  out  of  tbe  room,  preceded 
by  Mrs.  Bousefield,  to  sbow  bim  tbe  way,  and  Alp  bringing  up 
tbe  rear, — 

"  Will  you  come  up  to  tbe  nursery  and  see  my  otber  little 
brotber  ? — be  is  called  Ilorace,  after  grandpapa." 

"  Witb  pleasure,  dear  ;  but  I  tbink  tbis  little  brotber,  or  I 
suppose  I  ougbt  to  call  bim  your  big  brotber,  bad  better  stay 


462  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

down  here,  for  fear  of  making  a  noise,  and  suddenly  awaking 
your  poor  mamma." 

But  Master  Henry,  who  was  not  more  fond  of  his  own  so- 
ciety than  other  people  were,  at  the  bare  mention  of  such  a 
thing  instantly  got  up  a  strike  ;  the  terms  of  which  were,  that 
if  he  was  allowed  to  go  up-stairs  he'd  be  good,  but  that  if  he 
was  made  to  stay  down  there,  he'd  kick  up  such  a  row  !  that  it 
should  set  Alp  barking,  all  the  cats  mewing,  and  all  the  maids 
scolding.  So,  not  choosing  to  risk  the  horrors  of  war,  thus 
graphically  set  before  her,  Edith  said  with  a  peaceful  smile, 
which  was  nevertheless  more  bright  than  Cobden  ! — 

"Well,  then,  if  you  promise  to  be  very  good  you  may 
come." 

On  opening  the  nursery  door  Edith  was  greeted  by  the  poor 
baby's  fretful  wail,  which  Marlow  the  nurse  was  in  vain  trying 
to  hush,  from  the  usual  nursery  rqjertoire.  Upon  the  opening 
of  the  door  he  turned  his  heavy  eyes  towards  it,  and  upon  see- 
ing Edith  he  slightly  raised  his  little  head.  As  she  approached 
him  the  chain  she  w^ore  round  her  neck  attracted  his  attention, 
and  as  he  stared  at  it,  his  wailing  for  a  moment  ceased. 

"Poor  little  fellow  ! "  said  Edith ;  "  he  looks  very  ill." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  think  he  is  cutting  another  double  tooth," 
said  the  nurse. 

"I  should  fear  it  was  something  more  than  his  teeth  by  the 
look  of  his  eyes.     Had  you  not  better  send  for  a  doctor  ? " 

"  Why  we  expect  Mr.  Rushbrook,  the  doctor,  here  every 
minute,  ma'am ;  he  said  he  did  not  like  his  looks  yesterday, 
but  he  could  not  tell  for  a  certainty  what  was  the  matter  with 
him  till  he  saw  him  again  to-day." 

"Poor  little  thing  !  Will  baby  come  to  me  ?  "  said  Edith, 
holding  out  her  arms  to  him.  The  child  made  no  opposition, 
so  she  took  him  in  her  arms  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
with  him.  He  seemed  either  lulled  or  relieved  by  the  change, 
as  his  moaning  ceased,  and  he  kept  his  large,  heavy  eyes  stead- 
ily fixed  on  her  face,  and  the  rippling,  golden  braids  of  her  richly- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  453 

wreathed  hair ;  while  Master  Henry  held  tightly  on  to  the  skirt 
of  her  dress,  as  he  would  not  for  the  world  be  out  of  any  sort 
of  procession  that  was  going ;  only  occasionally  diverging  from 
it  to  dart  into  divers  mysterious  strongholds  of  the  nursery,  and 
bring  forth,  now  a  brick,  now  a  top,  and  then  a  tin  grenadier, 
or  a  ninepin ;  all  of  which,  by  way  of  consolation,  he  kindly 
tried  to  cram  into  the  poor  baby's  mouth,  which,  of  course,  ir- 
ritated the  little  sufferer  into  a  fresh  paroxysm  of  screaming,  in 
the  midst  of  which  Mr.  Rushbrook  arrived. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say,  ma'am,"  said  he,  after  having  told  the 
nurse  to  take  the  baby  from  Edith  and  bring  it  to  the  window, 
where  he  had  raised  its  eyelids,  looked  at  its  tongue  and  felt  its 
pulse,  "  you  have  been  doing  rather  an  imprudent  thing,  for  I 
now  see  that  it  is  decided  scarlet  fever  that  this  poor  little  fellow 
has." 

^'  Good  gracious  !  "  said  Edith,  turning  to  Marlow,  "  will  you 
have  the  goodness  to  go  down  stairs  directly  and  tell  all  the 
servants  that  when  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale,  whom  I  am  ex- 
pecting every  minute,  comes,  on  no  account  to  let  her  in,  but  say 
from  me,  Miss  Panmuir,  that  she  is  not  wanted  here  now,  and 
that  I  will  either  write  or  go  to  her  this  evening ;  but,  mind^  he 
sure  they  don't  let  her  come  inP 

A  lord  !  or  a  lady  !  and  still  more  a  duke  !  or  a  duchess  ! 
being  among  the  few  things  that  can  pump  up  empressement 
and  civility,  from  the  Artesian  well  of  our  national  bearishness, 
Mr.  Rushbrook,  who  on  his  first  entrance  had  viewed  Edith 
(more  especially  from  her  wondrous  beauty)  in  the  same  light 
he  had  always  done  the  mistress  of  the  house,  at  this  magic 
jingling  of  a  ducal  coronet,  now  stepped  forward,  bowing  almost 
to  the  very  ground,  and  pantomiraically  washing  his  hands,  as 
he  said, — 

"Madam,  if  you  will  allow  m.e^  I  will  station  myself  at  the 
gate  to  warn  her  Grace  of  the  infection,  which  I  am  most  deeply 
grieved  to  think  yow,  madam,  should  have  run  the  risk  of." 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  jou,  for  that  would  frighten  her  ;  besides,  I 


454  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

don't  wish  her  to  know  that  the  scarlet  fever  is  here,  for  then  I 
know  she  would  be  frightened  on  my  account,  and  would,  I'm 
sure,  come  in  to  take  me  away,  which  could  do  we  no  good,  and 
might  be  the  means  of  her  taking  it  too.  As  for  me,  the  mis- 
chief is  already  done  if  mischief  there  is ;  but,  as  we  are  equally 
in  God's  hands,  everywhere,  under  all  circumstances,  I  cannot  say 
that  I  feel  the  slightest  alarm  ;  though,  of  course,  I  would  not  have 
wiUingly  tempted  the  danger,  had  I  known  of  its  existence." 

"  Well,  madam,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  which  to  admire 
most,  your  courage  or  your  genuine  piety."  But  as  Mr.  Rush- 
brook  was  determined  to  have  it  to  say  that  he  had  once  in 
his  life  spoken  to,  nay,  more,  rendered  an  important  service !  to 
a  Duchess  !  he  insisted  upon  being  at  the  gate  to  receive  her, 
lest  the  servants  should  make  any  blunder ;  and  to  achieve  this 
point  he  promised  Edith  faithfully  that  her  Grace  should  not 
come  in,  and  should  not  know  that  the  scarlet  fever  was  in  the 
house." 

When  Mrs.  Bousefield  returned  to  tell  Edith  that  Florence 
was  in  bed,  great  was  her  retrospective  consternation !  on  hear- 
ing that  the  baby  had  the  scarlet  fever,  to  think  of  the  danger 
poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  and  the  "  six  dear  hinfants"  might 
have  ran,  had  they  been  there  to  incur  it !  after  which  she  was, 
profuse  in  her  hopes  that  Edith  would  escape  it,  and  that  "  that 
good-for-nothink,  'orrid,  howdacious,  villand  hof  a  Ferrars  might 
'ave  corght  hit ;  but,  no,  no  fear  hof  that^  for  the  Devil  halways 
took  care  hof  his  hown,  hand  very  right,  too  ;  hand  hit  was  a 
pity,  has  those  that  himitated  him  so  close  hin  bother  respects 
did  not  foller  his  e^zample  hin  that  too." 

Just  as  Edith  was  going  into  Florence's  room  Mr.  Rushbrook 
returned,  his  stature  apparently  augmented  at  least  two  inches 
by  his  interview  with  the  Duchess  of  Liddesdale. 

"  Well,  madam,"  said  he,  "her  Grace  is  gone,  and  hopes  to 
see  you  this  evening." 

"  Thank  you :  I'm  so  glad  she  did  not  persist  in  coming  in, 
which  I  was  afraid  she  would  do." 


BEHIND    THE    SCEiNES.  465 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  madam,  I  found  it  necessary 
to  tell  a  little  jih,  in  order  to  prevent  her  Grace  coming  in,  which 
she  was  evidently  bent  upon  doing,  so  I  told  her  you  had  gone 
home,  for  I  thought  anything  better  than  risking  the  health  of 
tivo  such  ladies." 

"  Dear  me  !  I  hope  she  won't  go  to  our  house  and  find  that 
I  am  not  there,"  mused  Edith.  But  never  being  in  the  habit  of 
dwelling  long  upon  her  own  exclusive  concerns,  the  interests  of 
poor  Florence  now  soon  put  them  to  flight ;  and  knowing  that 
there  was  no  electric  telegraph  for  disseminating  news  in  a  coun- 
try, and  more  especially  in  a  suburban  neighbourhood,  like  a 
surgeon-apothecary,  she  took  Mr.  Rushbrook  aside,  before  en- 
tering Florence's  room,  and  gave  him  a  resume  of  her  clandes- 
tine marriage  ;  telling  him,  also,  her  real  name,  and  the  villain- 
ous manner  in  w^hich  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  behaved  to  her, 
and  that  the  old  gentleman  he  would  find  with  her  was  Mr. 
Wilmot,  her  father,  whose  admirable  preaching  he  had  no  doubt 
heard,  or  at  least  heard  of. 

"  Yes,  surely  madam,  surely,  and  the  lady  I  have  been  at- 
tending as  Mrs.  Henry  is  .Mrs.  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  the  wife  of 
that  very  clever  and  highly  talented  man  ! "  (A  w^ord  for  wdiich 
the  individual  so  designated  would  have  knocked  the  speaker 
down,  had  he  heard  it ;  as  he,  the  "  highly  talented  man,"  mo- 
destly considered  himself  the  greatest  genius  of  modern,  or  any 
'other  times.) 

"He  had  far  better  have  had  a  little  less  cleverness,  and  a 
little  more  conscience  ;  and  a  little  less  talent,  and  a  little  more 
principle,"  said  Edith,  coldly. 

"  Oh,  you  are  severe,  madani,  we  must  make  allowances 
for  genius,  you  know." 

"  I  never  have,  and  never  can  admit,  that  genius  should  be 
a  charter  for  vice ;  on  the  contrary,  as  it  presupposes  superior 
intelligences,  and  a  higher  and  clearer  order  of  mind,  it  renders 
those  in  whom  the  Creator  has  kindled  such  Pro'methean  lights 
doubly  responsible  ;  for  "  to  whom  much  is  given,  from  them 
shall  much  be  required." 


456  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Oh,  certainly,  madam,  certainly ;  but  still "  and  not 

knowing  exactly  liow  to  finish  the  sentence,  as  a  practical  illus- 
tration of  the  word  stilly  the  doctor  moved  on. 

On  feeling  Florence's  pulse,  he  shook  his  head,  and,  in  an- 
swer to  Mr.  Wilmot's  anxious  and  inquiring  looks,  he  said — 

"  It  would  be  wrong  to  deceive  you,  sir ;  Mrs.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  (for  he  had  the  good  taste  to  soothe  the  poor  father's 
ear,  by  giving  her  her  real  name  in  full)  may  regain  her  con- 
sciousness upon  coming  out  of  this,  say  at  the  expiration  of  six 
or  seven  hours  more  ;  but  I  greatly  fear  that  it  will  only  be  the 
flickering  of  the  flame  before  the  lamp  goes  ont.  However,  I 
may  be  mistaken,  for  while  there's  life  there's  hope." 

Luckily  for  him,  at  this  supreme  moment,  Mr.  Wilmot's 
hopes  had  never  been  set  on,  or  garnered  in  life.  And  when  the 
man  of  pills  had  gone,  and  the  father  knelt  with  that  fair  girl 
beside  the  departing  spirit  of  his  child,  which  now  hovered  like 
a  star  between  heaven  and  earth, — whilst  a  red  ray  from  the 
setting  sun  streamed  in  through  the  half-closed  shutter  of  that 
silent  room,  and  touched  into  glory,  hke  an  Ithuriel's  spear,  the 
silver  locks  of  the  old  man  and  the  golden  ones  of  the  young 
girl— the  spot  became  hallowed  ground,  for  the  group  seemed 
that  of  a  patriarch  consigning  back  to  an  angel  the  young  spirit 
of  the  child  which  the  Eternal  had  lent  him. 


It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  Murray  returned,  he  looked 
haggard  and  fatigued,  when  Edith  went  down  to  meet  him. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Too  late  !  "  rejoined  he,  in  answer  to  this  laconic  interro- 
gation, as  he  flung  himself  on  one  side  of  the  sofa  and  his  hat 
on  the  other  ;  "  we  could  not  overtake  her ;  but  suspecting  from 
her  wild  and  distracted  looks  that  the  poor  creature  had  made 
for  the  river,  I  hastened  to  the  Serpentine,  through  Kensington 
Gardens,  but  was  only  in  time  to  see  her  lifeless  body  taken 
into  the  receiving-house.     She  had  thrown  a  small  mother-of- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  45*7 

pearl  souvenir  on  the  mai-gin  of  the  river,  with  every  leaf  torn 
out  of  it  but  one,  on  which  was  scrawled  in  pencil — 

"  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  will  not  make  of  me  his  Avife  ;  but 
"  I  can  make  of  myself  a  corse.  He  tell  me  to  read  J.  J.  Rous- 
"seau  ;  and  Rousseau  say,  'Br  rendering  life  insupporta- 
"  RLE,  God  orders  one  to  quit  it.'  I  go,  now,  for  to  obey 
"  God's  orders. 

"  Adelaida  Gothekant." 

"  Poor  creature  !  poor  creature  !  "  said  Edith,  covering  her 
ftice  with  both  her  hands,  as  she  added,  "  God  forgive  that 
wretch,  what  a  hell  of  crimes  he  has  to  answer  for  !  and  I,  how 
can  I  ever  be  sufficiently  thankful  for  having  escaped  such  a 
fiend ! " 

"  Amen,"  responded  Murray. 

*  *  *  *  ^  :5fe 
%                     ^                     Hi                     ik                     %  Hi 

As  Mr.  Rushbrook  had  foretold,  Florence  regained  her  con- 
sciousness about  midnight.  She  was  too  near  that  brighter  and 
better  world  to  let  anything,  even  the  hitherto  closest  ties  of  this, 
ruffle  that  calm  serenity  of  eternal  peace  which  her  poor  riven 
heart  had  so  long  implored,  and  which  she  was  now  beginning 
to  inherit.  She  recognized  her  father  as  God's  greatest  and 
crowning  mercy  ;  and  her  last  silent  prayer  was  to  the  Saviour 
to  thank  him  for  it.  The  clock  of  the  old  church  had  just 
tolled  ONE — night  and  morning  had  had  their  momentary 
meeting  and  their  eternal  parting — and  so  was  it  with  the 
spirit  of  Florence  Wilmot  and  its  earthly  tabernacle ;  but  it 
soared  buoyantly  up  to  its  celestial  Home  !  for  its  wings  were  a 

GOOD  man's  blessing  AND  A  FATHEr's  PARDON  ! 

*  Hi  Hi  Hi  Hi  Hi 

*  'k  -k  'k  *  Hi 

The  next  morning,  like  a  tender  husband  as  he  was,  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  sent  to  Magnolia  Lodge  to  inquire  after  her, 
and  had  at  length  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  tliat  his  great  work 
was  finished  ! — tHx\t  his  wife  was  dead  ! 
20 


SECTION  XVIII. 

"In  divite  intelligautur  snperbi:  Juda-orum  iguorantes  Dei  justitiam,  et  fiuam  vo- 

lontes  constitucre ," 

Augustiii  Quarst.  Evan,,  lib.  ii.  3S. 
"  Love  is  a  jest,  and  friendship  is  but  a  name.'" — Goldamith. 
*****  ****  * 

"  To  sing  for  silly  souls 
"With  a  supplication 
And  a  confutation 
Without  replication, 
Having  delectation 
To  malie  exclamation. 
In  his  debellation 
With  a  (Jewish)  fashion 
To  subvert  our  nation." 
Slightly  altered  fr 07)1  Jon.  Bkcltoii's  lives  to  Sir  Thomas  Moore. 

There,  amid  his  "Paradise  of  Daiuty  Devices,"  the  Eight 
Honorable  Issachar  Benaraby  was  sitting  alone  in  his  library, 
leaning  back  in  an  exceedingly  luxurious  library  chair;  his 
right  leg  crossed  over  his  left — for  even  when  alone  he  kept  up 
the  good  habit  of  always  putting  his  best  leg  foremost.  Upon 
the  whole,  we  are  soriy  to  say  that  "  the  Great  Benarabian  He- 
brew Point  Controversy^''  (which  was  2&^iiiiindisinited)  ^\^not 
progress  with  its  author's  usual  vivida  vis  anima.  In  truth  he 
himself  felt — for  he  was  too  shrewd  not  to  do  so — that  as  far  as 
this  mighty  work  had  yet  proceeded,  with  the  slight  variation 
of  the  title  of  the  production,  what  HoHnshed,in  his  Chronicle, 


IJEUIND    THE    SCENES.  459 

cliurlislily  but  truly  remarks  of  Heywood's  parable  of  "The 
Spider  aud  the  Fly,"  might  with  equal  justice  be  said  of  "  the 
Great  Benarabian  Hebrew  Point  Controversy  " — viz.,  "  one  also 
hath  made  a  booke  of  the  '  Hebrew  Points^  wherein  he  dealeth 
so  profoundlie  and  beyond  all  measure  of  skill,  that  neither  he 
himselfe  that  made  it,  neither  aine  one  that  readeth  it,  can  reach 
into  the  meaning  thereof."  But  Mr.  Benaraby  had  a  theory, 
which  oft-repeated  practical  experiences  had  converted  into  a 
theorem, — that  nothing  was  to  be  done  with  English  people 
without  ;  but  everything  hy  bullying  them  ;  so  "  Pooh  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  honourable  gentleman,  after  reading  over  the  last 
page  of  his  hieroglyphics ;  "  I  am  a  fool  to  trouble  myself 
about  discrepancies  and  unintelligibilities,  since  I  have  only  to 
keep  steadily  in  mind  (on  a  larger  scale)  the  anecdote  of  Bruce, 
who,  when  somebody  ventured  to  express  a  doubt  as  to  the  ve- 
racity of  one  of  his  travellers'  tales,  went  to  him  with  a  raw  beef- 
steak and  said,  "  Sir,  you'll  either  swallow  that  or  fight  me  ;  " 
so  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  get  a  sufiScient  number  of  raw  steaks 
(and  the  rawer  the  better)  from  my  fat  bulls  of  Basan,  ready  for 
the  '  British  Public,'  and  let  them  look  to  it  if  they  don't  swal- 
low them  ! — that's  all.  Though  it  is  a  dear  good  old  granny  of 
a  Public  too,  for  ever  since  the  boy  Isaac  Newton  used  to  tie 
candle-ends  to  the  tails  of  his  kites  at  night,  which  that  dear 
old  lady  took  for  comets  ! — farthing  rushlights  do  her  just  as 
well,  provided  they  are  but  imffed  sufficiently  high,  and  adven- 
tured amid  a  proportionate  degree  of  dai-kness.  The  only 
thing  is,  to  amalgamate  and  blend  one's  materials  well ;  fusion 
is  the  grand  secret  of  all  things  in  nature,  animate,  and  inani- 
mate, from  cookery  down  to  coxcombry,  from  love  down  to  lib- 
erty (?),  and  of  politics  as  a  WioZt?,  down  to  the  detail  of  parties." 
And  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the  glass,  and  as  he  adjusted  his 
ebon  ringlets,  declaimed  (his  own  reflected  image  doing  duty  for 
the  poet's  Medora)  these  exquisite  lines — 

"Medora  idola  mia!  fra  questa  iVondi 
Fra  quest'  erbe  novelle,  e  questi  fiori 


460  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Odi  come  sussara, 

Dolci  scherzando,  una  leggera  auretta 

Che  all'odorate  piante, 

Lieve  fuggendo,  i  piu  bei  spirit!  invola 

E  nel  confuso  errore, 

Fovma  da  mille  odori,  un  solo  odore  !  " 

"  By  Jove  !  flowers  and  perfumes  remind  me  of  my  gardens, 
which  so  far  resemble  the  hanging  ones  of  Babylon,  that  I  fear 
they  also  must  be  suspended  till  I  can  again  take  office."  And 
he  drew  forth,  from  a  chaos  of  "  Bills,"  "  Petitions,"  "  Minutes," 
"  RejDorts,"  "  Speeches,"  Addresses,"  "  Prospectuses,"  "  Resolu- 
tions," and  tape-tied  "  Drafts,"  never  meant  to  draw  ! — an  ela- 
borate plan  for  a  sort  of  oriental  horticultural  nightmare,  of 
"no  mean  mystery,"  comprising  parterres,  compartments, 
trayle-work,  knots,  labyrinths,  lanterns  (not  of  the  House  of 
Commons),  embossments,  dedals,  cabinets  (which  he  could  ar- 
range and  uproot  at  his  pleasure),  close  walks  (which  there  are 
in  all  cabinets),  galleries,  pavihons,  porticoes,  relievoes  of  topiary, 
and  hortulan  architecture ;  rocks,  grottoes,  cryptae,  precipices, 
piscines,  mounts,  ventaducts,  gazon  theatres,  artificial  echoes ! 
(a  most  essential  piece  of  machinery  to  all  political  characters), 
automata  and  hydraulic  music,  and  fountains,  jets  d'eaux,  and 
cascades  without  number.  Having  wandered  through  this  other 
theoretical  maze  of  his,  the  right  honourable  gentleman  was  re- 
posing (his  imagination)  "  in  a  cool  grot,"  when  the  door  was 
thrown  open  and — 

"  Lord  Assfleecem  and  Sir  Caesar  Coakington "  were  an- 
nounced (for  the  latter  had  been  be(k)nighted  on  the  advent  of 
the  Red  by  Ministry,  and  the  meteoric  flash  of  the  Attorney- 
Generalship)  ;  but  as  the  worthy  conclave,  in  order  to  be  ready 
for  the  dignity  of  ofiice  at  a  moment's  notice,  had  left  oft'  the 
"old  fellows"  and  "  old  boys,"  that  used  to  constitute  their 
greetings,  the  Attorney-General  now  advanced  with  all  the 
statehness  of  what  had  been,  and  therefore,  what  might  be 
again,  and  holding  out  his  hand,  said — 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  461 

-^'  Hovv^  are  you,  my  dear  Benaraby  ?  I  hope  we  don't  in- 
terrupt. Ha,  ha,  ha ! "  laughed  the  Attorney-General,  "  I 
thought  perhaps,  my  dear  fellow,  you  might  have  been  busy 
studying  Burke's  '  Short  account  of  a  Short  Administra- 
tion,' alias  a  brief  account  of  a  Burked  Administration  !  " 

While  the  peer,  previous  to  greeting  the  host,  turned  round 
to  the  cJdef  hutler,  as  he  was  about  to  close  the  door,  and  said 
— "  Just  bring  me  a  glass  of  Seltzer  water,  will  you." 

"  Interrupt  me  I  not  in  the  least,  my  dear  Coakington ;  for 
I'm  like  the  present  ministry,  doing  nothing." 

"  Ah  !  a  precious  set,  are  they  not !  "  laughed  Coakington, 
shewing  all  his  very  line  teeth,  as  lifting  up  the  skirts  of  his 
coat,  he  sank  back  in  an  easy  chair. 

"  Oh  !  disgusting  !  I  think  of  j^roposing  to-morrow  night, 
in  the  House,  by  way  of  the  other  extreme  to  'The  Juvenile 
Delinquency  Bill,'  that  the  present  Administration  adopt,  as  their 
official  insignia,  the  old  Roman  S.P.Q.R. ;  which,  having  done 
duty  so  long  for  Senatus  Populus  Que  Romanus,  will  do  equally 
well  to  express  Such  Poor  Queer  Rogues  !  bad  cooks  all,  devil- 
led Turkey  being  the  only  plat  a  leur  portee  !  " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!     Hear!  hear!" 

"  They  say,"  resumed  Benaraby,  plunging  both  his  hands 
into  the  very  depths  of  his  trouser  pockets,  as  he  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  fireless  grate,  "  that  Sir  Robert  Cotton  rescued  the 
original  Magna  Charta  from  the  hands  of  a  tailor,  who  was  just 
about  to  cut  it  up  for  measures  ;  but  these  incapables  are  always 
cutting  it  up  in  their  ridiculous  measures !  " 

"  Clearly,  my  dear  fellow  ! "  re-grinned  Coakington  ;  "  and 
things  will  never  be  right  till  we  get  back,  and  then  I  advise 
you  to  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot,  and  try  and  get  a  bill  passed 
making  the  Chancellorship  of  the  Exchequer  a  permanent  thing  ; 
as  that  model  king,  Harry  the  Eighth,  did,  by  conferring  it  on 
Lord  Berners  for  life." 

"No,  no,"  rejoined  Benaraby,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and 
protruding  his  lips,  as  he  elevated  his  eyebrows ;  "  that  might 
be  inconvenient,  as  preventing  one's  being  Premier." 


4t>2  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"Ah!  I  forgot  that,"  laughed  Coaldngton.  "Then  with 
this  clause — '  to  be  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  till  such  time 
as  it  may  inflate  into  the  Premiership.'     Ha  !  ha  !  ha !  " 

"I  say,  old  fellow,"  cried  Lord  Assfleecem,  who  was  not 
proud  !  and  therefore  adhered  to  his  commoner  style  of  elocu- 
tion, "  as  you  are  a  literary  cove,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  I 
want  you  to  do  a  little  job  for  me." 

"  Your  lordship  forgets  I'm  no  longer  in  office,"  bowed  the 
ex-minister,  with  one  of  his  most  razor-like  smiles,  which, 
though  it  did  not  cut  the  block,  nearly  took  the  whiskers  ofl" 
the  Attorney-General — he  laughed  so  heartily. 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  mean  any  ministerial  job,"  resumed  the  peer ; 
"  it's  a  sort  of  newspaper  thing  I  want  you  to  do  for  me." 

"  Your  lordship's  memory  is  still  at  fault,  not  to  recollect 
that  I  have  ceased  to  be  a  leading  article,  so  should  make  no 
figure  even  in  a  newspaper,"  sneered  the  host. 

"  Oh  !  hang  it !  you  don't  understand ;  this  is  what  I  want," 
and  as  he  spoke  he  kept  poking  the  point  of  his  cane  with  great 
energy  horizontally  into  Mr.  Benaraby's  carpet,  to  the  great  de- 
triment of  that  piece  of  furniture :  "  you  know  it  is  the  fashion 
now  to  make  histories,  and  romances,  and  things,  for  the  peer- 
age, and  about  the  landed  gentry — and — " 

"  The  fact  is,"  broke  in  Coakington,  "  he  wants  you  to  Burke 
him!     Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"  No  I  don't,"  matter-of-facted  the  young  gentleman ;  "  I 
only  want  you  to  wi-ite  something  about  me  and  my  father, 
beginning  like  all  the  rest  of  them — '  This  noble  family  is  de- 
scended,' &c.,  &c.,  &c. — " 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  dear  fellow,"  again  interposed  Coak- 
ington ;  "I  think  it  should  be,  'this  noble  family  has  ascended,^ 
considering  that  you  are  the  first  peer." 

"  Oh !  only  about  you,  and  your  father ;  nothing  about  your 
grandfather  ? "  sneered  Beuaraby,  who  at  all  times  affected  to 
hold  the  noblest  English  blood  and  oldest  names  in  supreme 
contempt ;  for  he  thought — 


BEEIIiNTD    THE    SCEXES.  463 

Upstart  eacli  name,  that  Doomsday  Book  discloses, 
Compared  with  his — old  as  the  book  of  Moses. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  much  about  my  grandfather," 
modestly  rephed  his  lordship,  pulling  his  right  ear  ;  ."  but  you 
know  you  can  say  my  father  sat  in  three  different  parliaments 
as  member  for  his  own  county  ;  and — and  that  he  had  a  clear 
rental  of  £132,000  a- year." 

"  A  clear  rental  of  £132,000  a-year,"  repeated  Mr.  Benaraby, 
dipping  his  pen  into  the  ink,  and  making  a  note  of  that  great 
fact ;  "  and  his  son — but,"  continued  he,  looking  up  full  in  the 
face  of  that  brilliant  result  of  the  elder  Maiden — "  I  think  you 
had  better  marry  before  I  attempt  your  biography ;  and  then, 
perhaps,  I  may  be  able  to  say  of  you  as  another  chronicler  said 
of  the  son  of  Lord  Shaftesbury — Cooper,  Lord  Shaftesbury,  you 
know,  the  author  of  '  The  Characteristics  ? ' " 

"  No,  I  don't." 

"  Ah,  well,  that  is  very  characteristic  of  you.  But  he  said 
of  that  young  gentleman,  after  concluding  his  panegyric  on  his 
father, — '  little  is  known  of  this  gentleman,  except  that  he  con- 
tinued the  family.' " 

'•  Of  course  I  don't  mean  to  discontinue  it." 

"  Glad  of  it,"  said  Benaraby,  "  for  it  would  be  a  thousand 
pities  that  the  art  of  supplying  the  peerage  with  such  lumi- 
naries, like  the  art  of  painting  on  glass,  should  be  lost." 

"  Especially,"  laughed  Coakington,  "  since  both-'productions 
are  equally  liable  to  be  cracked." 

But  the  ex-Minister,  without  moving  a  muscle  of  his  imper- 
turbable countenance,  and  still  addressing  himself  to  the  At- 
torney-General, added — "And  with  regard  to  the  present 
representative  of  the  Maidens,  you  remember  Ausonius'  Epi- 
gram ? — 

'"■  Dum  duhitat  Natura  Marem 

Faceretore  Picellain, 
Factus  es  6  Fulcher  penh 
Fuella  Puer.^  " 


464  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Well,  I  think  we  might  bring  it  in  with  considerable  effect, 
eh  ?  "  And  again  the  two  Talents  laughed  long  and  loud,  to  the 
great  mystification  of  the  new  peer,  who  did  not  exactly  see  the 
joke,  and  might  not  have  thought  it  any,  if  he  had. 

"  Hang  me ! "  cried  Lord  Assfleecem,  getting  very  red,  es- 
pecially at  the  tips  of  his  ears,  "if  I  don't  believe  you  two 
d d  fellows  are  laughing  at  me." 

"  jN'othing  like  Church  and  State  !  my  lord ;  that's  right, 
always  cherish  an  orthodox  creed,"  rejoined  Benaraby,  looking 
askance  at  Coakington  ;  who  as  soon  as  he  had  done  laughing, 
said,  while  he  narrowly  investigated  the  state  of  his  nails, — 
"  Have  you  seen  Lord  Redby  lately  ?  " 

"  IS'ot  for  four  or  five  days." 

"  Ah,  /  saw  him  since  that :  he  came  into  the  Carlton  on 
Saturday,  while  I  was  there.  I  didn't  think  he  was  looking 
well." 

The  fact  was,  that  although  Lord  Redby,  from  enjoying  the 
fruits  of  a  life-long,  well-merited  respect  and  admiration,  could 
not  be  easily  unrespected,  or  unadmired,  still  he  was  in  some 
measure  reaping  the  odium,  not  to  say  the  ridicule,  of  having 
selected  such  an  unwise  saw — though  a  very  modern  instance! 
— as  Benaraby,  for  his  chief  tool  in  his  debiU  at  cabinet-making; 
for  though  if  a  man  selects  bad  tools  for  an  important  enter- 
prise, and  yet  nevertheless  succeeds  in  it,  then  is  his  glory  all 
the  greater — like  that  of  Mr.  Hobbs  when  he  succeeded  in  open- 
ing Chubb's  impregnable  lock  with  the  crooked  point  of  a 
rusty  nail ! — for  this  reason,  that  to  achieve  great  things  with 
small  resources,  or  by  indifferent  means,  alw^ays  has  the  air  of 
a  Hercules  smiling  in  conscious  power  at  what  lesser  mortals 
deem  insurmountable  obstacles.  But  just  in  proportion  as 
success  gilds  everything,  so  does  failure  mire  all  things ;  and 
people  now  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  asked,  "  What  could 
Lord  Redby  have  expected,  when  he  made  such  a  phizgig  as 
Benaraby  the  pivot  of  his  cabinet  ?  but  had  that  cabinet  but 
stood  its  ground,  then  it  would  have  been — ^"  Wonderful  man  ! 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  465 

Lord  Redby  ! — showed  his  grasp  and  reach  of  intellect,  and  his 
mental  chemistry,  in  choosing  Benaraby ;  for  he  saw,  through 
the  tinsel  and  motley  of  the  mountebank,  the  prodigious  sta- 
mina !  and  acumen  of  the  man  ! "  x\nd  for  those  who  could 
see  behind  results  into  realities,  Lord  Redby,  despite  its  failure, 
was  still  right  in  his  choice ;  for  every  market  should  be  sup- 
plied according  to  its  demands ;  and  such,  in  each  age,  are 
widely  different.  In  the  days  of  the  Borgias  for  instance,  the 
science  sought,  was  for  a  liquid  capable  of  discharging  the 
natural  darkness  from  human  hair  ;  in  our  day,  its  antipodes,  for 
dying  white  hair  black  is  the  marvel  in  requisition  ;  and  in  the 
Elizabethan  era,  not  a  fine  head  of  hair  but  a  fine  wig  was  the 
desideratum  coveted :  and  so,  in  like  manner,  Mr.  Benaraby,  as 
no  doubt  Lord  Redby  perceived,  had  just  in  him  the  very  stuff 
necessary  for  modern  traffic  ;  for  there  was  in  his  character  what 
Jeffrey  attributes  to  Richardson's  novels — namely,  a  strong 
"  artificial  reality,"  which  suits  these  times  of  Brummagem  pub- 
lic-weal enthusiasm,  infinitely  better  than  genuine  reahty  could 
do  ;  for  what  is  not  understood  cannot  be  appreciated.  In  short, 
with  a  few  of  the  slightest  possible  alterations  in  what  painters 
call  the  ordonance  of  the  picture,  Lamartine's  portrait  of 
Necker,  in  the  former's  "  History  of  the  Constituent  Assembly," 
would  have  done  for  Mr.  Issachar  Benaraby's ;  for  the  latter, 
like  the  French  financier,  had  also  "  a  confident  eye,  a  close,  and 
not  ungracious  mouth,  foreign  features,  in  which  (Mosaic)  grav- 
ity struggled  with  French  shallowness,  self-satisfaction,  disdain 
for  others,  affected  good-nature,  feigned  modesty,"  no — his  im- 
pudence at  least  was  genuine  ! — "  the  attitude  of  a  servant  who 
protects  his  master  ;  a  look  that  canvassed  for  esteem  ;  .  .  . 
an  equivocal  philosopher  who  accepted  the  caresses  of  {Juda- 
ism) while  kneeling  to  the  state  religion  ;  a  visible  intoxication 
of  sectarian  popularity  ;  .  •  .  a  parade  of  charlatanism,  which 
dwelt  N'.ith  ostentation  on  his  slightest  acts,  public  or  private ; 
an  advertisement  of  virtue;  a  part  of  perpetual  indecision,  be- 
tween the  loyal  subject,  the  infatuated  parvenu,  and  the  popu- 
20* 


466  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

larman  of  faction  ; — such  was  the  exterior,  and  such  the  man  ; 
original  type  of  the  pohticians  of  this  doctorial,  self-sufficient,  and 
supercilious  school." 

"  He  undertook  subjects  in  which  pohtics  and  administration 
were  connected  with  literature.  His  (brilliant)  and  emphatic 
eloquence  affected  the  coruscations  of  Cicero,  without,  how- 
ever, possessing  their  fascination  ;  the  words — virtue,  public 
good,  agricultural  interest,  coalescion  with  free  trade,  municipal 
reform,  progressing  with  the  times,  and  love  for  the  people, 
sanctified  his  books  in  the  eyes  of  the  financiers ;  while  his 
superficial  knowledge  of  commercial  and  administrative  econo- 
my, imposed  upon  men  of  letters." 

"  Well,  I  say,  old  fellow,  you'll  do  that  for  me,  won't  you  ? " 
said  Lord  Assfleecera,  addressing  the  host,  and  returning  to  the 
charge. 

"  Oh  1  the  inequalities  of  human  destinies  ! "  exclaimed  Be- 
naraby.  "  Talk  of  the  division  of  labour,  indeed  1  it  is  not  divid- 
ed ;  it  is  all  removed  from  the  hands  of  one,  to  be  heaped  up- 
on the  shoulders  of  another.  Lord  Redby  made,  or  got  the 
Queen  to  make,  which  is  all  the  same  thing,  a  peer  of  you  ;  but 
you  ask  me — poor,  humble  mortal  that  I  am,  to  undertake  the 
work  of  the  gods,  and  make  a  man  of  you  !  Let  me  see,"  con- 
tinued he,  seating  himself  at  the  table,  and  scratching  down  a 
few  sentences  on  a  piece  of  foolscap,  "  I'm  not  very  well  up  in 
natural  history,  but  I  believe  animals  that  live  in  shells  are 
called  testaceous  moUusca — not  testy  mollycoddles,  mind ! — 
but,  then,  you  are  just  out  of  your  shell,  so  we  must  go  on  to 
the  next  stage,  called  the  acephala,  or  animal  without  a  head ; 
and  so,  by  degrees,  we  shall  get  on  to  the  Assfleecem !  or  ani- 
mal with  a  coronet;  which  latter  article  possesses  the  same 
advantage  as  the  ladies'  bonnets  now  in  fashion — namely,  that 
it  may  be,  and  most  frequently  is,  worn  without  a  head." 

"Oh,  don't!  you'll  kill  me!"  screamed  Coakington,  hold- 
ing his  sides. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  ^  467 

"  No  ;  now  pray  don't  think  of  doing  anything  in  the  dying- 
way,  my  dear  Coakington,"  said  the  host,  walking  over  to  him, 
and  pushing  him  back  into  his  chair,  "  for  a  coroner's  inquest 
would  be  most  outrageously  inconvenient  to  me  just  now  ;  and, 
besides,  the  idea  of  a  fellow  sitting  upon  my  friend  the  Attor- 
ney-General's body !  it  would  look  exactly  as  if,  because  we 
were  out  of  office,  we  could  not  afford  a  seat  between  us ! " 

"  By-the-bye,"  said  Coakington,  suddenly  checking  his 
laughter,  "  talking  of  coroner's  inquests,  those  are  two  strange 
stories  about  Ponsonby  Ferrars,  in  the  papers  this  morning." 

Oh,  if  that  great  man  could  but  have  heard  those  two  im- 
portant events  of  his  life — the  gettingj  rid  of  a  tenacious  wife, 
and  a  troublesome  mistress,  at  one  felicitous  swoop — merely  al- 
luded to  in  a  "  by-the-bye,"  with  his  most  intimate  friends ; 
could  he  have  beheved  his  ears  or  his  identity  ?  But,  alas  !  so 
it  is  in  this  woist  of  all  possible  worlds,  from  the  greatest  to  the 
meanest  amongst  us,  the  particular  grain  that  makes  or  mars 
our  equilibrium,  or  secures  or  subverts  one  individual  gravita- 
tion, is  still  but  an  inconsequential  and  unimportant  grain  to 
others  (including  our  best  friends)  which  may  blow  hither, 
thither,  or  whither  it  listeth,  for  aught  they  care. 

"  Ah  \  about  his  marriage,"  responded  Benaraby,  carelessly 
looking  at  his  boots ;  "  it  seems  the  old  father  made  him 
marry  the  girl  on  her  death-bed ;  he  was  uncommt)nly  lucky,  I 
think,  to  get  rid  of  his  mate  and  his  marriage  so  easily  all  at 
once." 

For  such  was  the  dastardly  and  false  account  the  clever  man 
had  had  inserted  in  all  his  own  special  organs  of  the  press,  and 
their  name  was  Legion ;  and  the  tragedy  of  poor  Adelaida,  he 
had  had  (as  will  be  seen)  equally  garbled,  so  as  to  redound  to 
his  credit. 

"  And  the  other  historiette,"  resumed  Coakington,  "  about 
that  poor  German  girl ;  two  things  in  it,  I  own,  surprise  me  ; 
first,  that  a  man  like  Ferrai-s  could  inspire  such  a  romantic  at- 
tachment "  (for  men  are  all  sceptics  as  to  other  men's  powers 


468  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

of  attraction),  "  and,  secondly,  and  most  of  all,  am  I  surprised 
that  Ferrars  should  have  so  virtuously  resisted  her  infatuation 
for  him ;  for  none  of  us  ever  suspected  him  of  being  a  Joseph." 

"  Ah  !  well,"  said  Benaraby,  projecting  his  lips,  and  caress- 
ing his  chin  with  his  forefinger  and  thumb,  "a  Joseph  is  just 
about  what  I  should  think  he  was,  on  this  particular  occasion ; 
for  I  have  a  picture  of  Mrs.  Potiphar  (in  my  mind's  eye),"  add- 
ed he,  "and  she  was  skinny,  scraggy,  awkward,  cowish  in  every 
thing  but  her  breath ;  no  points  (not  even  Hebrew  ones !) — bad 
style  of  woman  altogether.  Depend  upon  it,  any  of  us  would 
have  behaved  as  well." 

"What!  all  throughout?"  laughed  Coakington.  "How 
about  the  corn  in  Egypt  ?  Eh !  you  dog,"  added  that  gentle- 
man, giving  the  Ex-Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  a  poke  in  the 
ribs  with  as  little  remorse  as  if  he  had  been  only  a  sack  of  flour. 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  latter,  with  great  solemnity,  draw- 
ing up  to  his  full  height,  and  opening  his  eyes  widely  all  over 
his  companion,  "There  is  still  corn  in  Egypt!"  After 
which  he  added  hastily  and  a  2^t'op^^  ^^  bottes — for  no  man 
had  a  happier  knack  of  giving  a  subject  the  sack,  when  he 
wished  to  get  rid  of  it — "  Heard  anything  of  Kieseroff  lately  ? 
I  hope  he  is  in  France,  tor,  though  he  detested  Macon  (the 
wine)  with  all  the  energy  which  that  execrable  fluid  deserves, 
and  which  his  great  gastronomic  genius  was  capable  of  bestow- 
ing upon  it,  still,  to  carry  out  the  doctrine  of  compensations,  the 
gardener  of  a  Madame  somebody — Hazel  or  Schlegel,  or  some 
such  name,  who  has  a  chateau  at  Macon  (which,  by-the-bye, 
should  be  called  Castle  Cholera  !)  has  just  discovered  what  has 
long  been  deemed  an  agricultural  impossibility — namely,  that 
cruffles  may  be  cultivated ;  and  has  actually  succeeded  in  pro- 
ducing a  large  crop  in  her  garden  ;  for  it  would  appear,  that 
hke  all  clever  things,  whether  animal  or  vegetable,  they  being 
of  the  cryptogamic  genus,  are  parasites,  requiring  humus  of  a 
special  character,  such  as  a  substratum  of  chesnut,  or  oak-leaves, 
mixed  with  an  argillo-calcareous  soil.     By  Jove !  I've  a  great 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  469 

mind  to  try  them  at  Babylonmintoii ; "  (the  right  honourable 
gentleman's  newly-purchased  estate) — "  but  foi — not  cVhonnete 
hoinme,  hwifoie  cVoies  de  Strashourg — what  a  glorious  discove- 
ry for  Kieseroff ! " 

"  Too  late,  poor  fellow ! "  said  Coakington,  "  for  Charles  de  La 
Tour  de  Nesle  was  telhng  me  last  night  that  he  was  drowned 
skating  on  the  Neva,  last  winter,  and  La  Tour  de  Nesle  added, 
that  it  could  not  have  happened  had  he  had  any  of  our  com- 
patriots with  him. 

"'Why  not? 'asked  L 

'• '  Because,'  rephed  the  Attache,  with  more  wit  and  truth 
than  civility,  '  it  is  impossible  ever  to  break  the  ice  with  English 
people ! ' " 


(7^ 


SECTION  XIX. 

"  And  that  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty.'" 

Exodus,  iv.  7. 
"  Take  them,  O  Death !  and  bear  away 

Whatever  thou  can'st  call  thine  own ! 
Thine  image  stamped  upon  this  clay, 
Doth  give  thee  that,  but  i'ifli alone! 

"  Take  them,  O  Grave  !  and  let  them  lie 
Folded  upon  thy  narrow  shelves. 
As  garments  by  the  soul  laid  by, 
And  precious  only  to  ourselves! 

"  Take  them,  0  great  Eternity ! 
Our  little  life  is  but  a  gust 
That  bends  the  branches  of  thy  tree, 
And  trails  its  blossoms  in  the  dust."' 

Longjelloio's  "  Suspjria.'" 

There  is  one  comfort  at  all  events  to  be  derived  from  rela- 
tions !  and  I  shall  specify  what  that  comfort  is,  lest  everybody 
(with  the  exception  of  Adam,  Melchisedec,  Prometheus,  and  the 
monster  in  Frankenstein,  who,  happily  for  themselves,  had  no 
relations)  ;  but  everybody,  I  mean,  now  living  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  should  be  inclined  to  deny  this  startling  assertion  !  hm- 
ited  as  it  is  ;  and  the  comfort  is  this,  that  however  one's  friends 
and  acquaintances  may  glide  over  all  that  concerns  us  with  in- 
difference, and  our  relations,  up  to  a  certain  point,  do  the  same; 
yet,  no  sooner  does  any  heavy  or  positive  mischance  befall  us, 
any  little  slip  down  the  hill,  in  which  w^e  get  bemired  by  the 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  471 

world's  contumely,  happen  to  us,  than  the  latter  instantly  not 
only  remember  the  privileges,  but  the  duties  !  which  the  ties  of 
blood  impose  upon  them,  and  forthwith  open  a  battery  of  re- 
proaches, and  chastening  upon  us,  which  prove  how  much  they 
love  us  !  a  fact,  which,  had  it  not  been  elicited  by  these  unto- 
ward circumstances,  we  might  (judging  from  appearances,  as  we 
all  are  apt  to  do,)  have  had  every  reason  to  doubt. 

As  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  pursued  his  way  to  Upper  Brook 
Street  on  foot,  the  Thursday  morning  after  poor  Florence's  re- 
lease, while  his  friends  Messieurs  Benaraby  and  CoakingtoUj 
w^ere  so  lightly  tripping  over  his  domestic  disasters,  he  was 
energetically  biting  his  lips  and  racking  his  brain  to  try  and 
imagine  what  sort  of  a  reception  he  should  have  from  Lady 
Mammonton,  notwithstanding  his  cleverly  garbled  account  of 
both  transactions,  and  his  having  sent  Slimey craft  as  avant  cou- 
rier^ to  tell  a  few  more  circumstantial  lies  in  detail  upon  both 
subjects.  As  for  the  suicide  of  poor  Frauleio,  he  knew  with  his 
aunt's  liberal  and  fashionable  notions  on  those  points,  that  fifty 
such  murders  she  would  only  consider  as  fifty  feathers  in  his 
cap.  But  his  marriage !  his  mesalliance!  that,  indeed,  would 
be,  in  her  mundane  creed,  a  serious  crime !  and  she,  like  her 
nephew,  had  no  other  creed.  For  this  reason,  Slimeycraft  had 
had  instructions  to  stoutly  deny  the  children,  and  the  clever 
man  had  kindly  allowed  Mr.  Wilmot  to  take  them,  so  as  that 
he  might  have  all  the  trouble,  anxiety,  and  expense  of  their  in- 
fancy ;  their  father !  merely  writing  a  pompous  letter,  stating 
that  at  some  future  time  he  should  interfere  about  the  boy's  edu- 
cation ;  the  girl's,  of  course,  was  of  no  consequence !  and  luck- 
ily for  her  he  considered  it  so.  And  as  to  his  eldest  son,  having 
inherited  much  of  his  father's  nature,  he  was  likely,  if  he  lived, 
to  pay  him  back  in  his  ow^n  coin.  But  the  poor  baby,  in  less 
than  a  week,  had  rejoined  his  mother. 

Oh !  verily  !  there  is,  there  must  be,  something  fearfully 
wrong  and  rotten  in  a  system  that  works  so  badly  in  a  country 
where  there  is  more  religion   talked.,  and  less  Christianity /c/^, 


472  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  practised^  than  in  any  other  under  the  sun,  and  where  con- 
ventionalism, in  all  things — and,  alas  !  most  of  all,  in  spiritual 
things — is  so  paramount  and  omnipotent,  that  the  varnish  of 
hypocrisy  is  accepted  by  all,  and  from  all,  in  lieu  of  the  validity 
of  virtue,  and  the  reality  of  religion.  No  matter  how  hollow, 
how  faulty,  or  even  how  actively  and  systematically  vicious  a 
man's  life  may  be,  as  long  as  he  talks  it  and  writes  it  well,  he 
may  ascend  the  pedestal  of  popularity,  and  step  into  one  of  the 
chief  niches  of  the  world's  pantheon,  there  to  receive  its  pagan 
idolatry.  Surely  this  crying  evil,  which  is  every  day  becoming 
more  rife  and  more  leprous,  must  originate  in  the  coldness, 
standoffishness,  and  want  of  Christian  vitality  in  the  ministers 
of  the  Church  itself !  who,  instead  of  making  the  pulpit  a  6o?2c?, 
seem  to  make  it  a  harrier  between  themselves  and  their  fellow- 
creatures.  How  unlike  their  Divine  Master  !  w^ho  at  all  times 
was  accessible — even  to  publicans  and  sinners  !  In  an  admi- 
rable little  book  recently  published,  "  The  Characteristic  Dif- 
ferences of  the  Four  Gospels,"  by  Andrew  Jukes,*  wherein  he 
instances  the  beautiful  self-devotion,  and  eminently  social  nature 
of  the  Saviour's  character,  the  author  says, — "  Another  point 
peculiar  to  this  gospel"  (that  of  St.  Mark)  "  is  the  repeated  no- 
tice we  get  here  of  the  way  in  which  our  Lord  permitted  him- 
self to  be  intruded  upon  in  his  retirement,  and  indeed  upon  all 
occasions.  So  thoroughly  was  he  at  the  disposal  of  others  (here 
only  is  it  noticed)  that  '  He  could  not  so  much  as  eat,'  f  for  the 
multitude  came  together,  and  it  was  not  in  the  heart  of  that 
blessed  servant  to  refuse  Himself  to  their  importunities.  This 
occurs  again  and  again.  Thus,  after  a  day  of  toil,  the  Lord, 
rising  up  early,  went  and  departed  into  a  solitary  place,  and 
there  prayed  :  but  Simon,  and  they  that  were  with  him,  follow- 
ed after  Him;  and  when  they  found  Him,  they  said  unto  Him, 
*  All  men  seek  for  Thee,  without  a  murmur,  he  at  once  received 
them,  allowing  the  interruption.'      And    in  another  portion  of 

*  London:  James  Nisbet  and  Co.,  Berners  Street,  1853. 
f  Chap.  iii.  20,  and  vi.  31. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  4*73 

this  work,  speaking  of  the  cures  and  healings  wrought  by  the 
earlier  ministers  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  the  author  adds, — 

"I  will  only  say,  time  was  when  virtue  accompanied  the 
hand  of  God's  servants;  nay,  when  even  the  .shadow  of  an 
apostle  could  heal.  It  will  not  hurt  us  to  remember,  even  if  the 
glory  is  now  departed  from  us,  that  such  things  have  once 
been.  And  this  I  will  add,  that  should  the  day  return,  when 
devils  are  rebuked,  and  lame  ones  healed,  those  who  look  close- 
1}^  will  see  that  a  tender  hand  will  not  be  wanting  in  the  service. 
'  But  where,'  as  one  has  asked,  '  are  the  layers  on  of  hands,  who 
give  man  to  himself  and  God,  by  casting  out  his  devils? 
Where  is  the  clergy  to  whom  sickness  makes  its  last  appeal  for 
health  ?  We  find  them  among  the  fishermen  of  the  first  century, 
but  not  among  our  priests  now.  Many  say  that  the  age  of 
miracle  is  past  and  gone.  But  Christianity,  as  we  find  it  in 
Scripture,  was  the  institution  of  miracle.  And  if  the  age  of 
miracle  is  well  nigh  gone,  is  it  not  because  the  age  of  Christianity 
is  well  nigh  gone  ?  The  age  of  mathematics  would  be  past  if 
no  man  cultivated  them.'  But  here  I  forbear.  Let  us  be  con- 
tent to  take  beggars  by  the  hand,  we  may  then  see  things 
wholly  out  of  the  range  of  our  present  field  of  vision." 

Yea,  verily,  but  let  us  also  extend  the  meaning  of  the  word 
"  beggar,"  like  that  of  its  patron  saint  Charity,  to  its  catholic 
and  complex  meaning,  and  not  restrict  it  to  its  narrowest  and 
most  solitary  sense  ;  and  then  we  shall  know,  and  knowing, 
feel,  imdifeelmg^  act  upon  the  knowledge,  that  all  who  sufter  in 
mind,  body,  or  estate,  are  beggars,  imploring  that  most  blessed 
of  all  alms,  sympathy  and  interest  from  their  fellow-creatures- 
Nay  more,  even  the  happy  and  the  successful  are  still  beggars  at 
the  thresholds  of  other  hearts,  craving  from  them  the  tribute 
of  a  kindred  joy  in  their  own  rejoicing  ;^  till  we  each  bestow 
such  alms  on  one  another,  we  may  be  church-goers,  but  we 
shall  not  be  Christians  ;  and  the  core  of  society  will  contiuue 
to  be  cankered  with  many  an  undetected,  if  not  quite  unsus- 
pected, Ponsonby  Ferrars  ;  men,  the  vice  of  whose  single  lives, 


474  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

is  as  a  tide  to  the  crimes   and   sufferings  of  generations  yet 
unborn ! 

But  the  old  nursery  axiom  is  the  best  to  start  upon ;  for, 
truly,  "  if  every  one  would  mend  one  "  the  world  would  soon 
be  in  a  state  of  thorough  repair  ;  and  if  each,  within  their  own 
sphere,  however  narrow  and  appare?2/Zy  insignificant  that  sphere 
may  be  (for  none  is  in  reality,  being  all  equal  lengths  of  the 
irreat  chain  with  which  the  Eternal  has  bound  creation) — 
however  circumscribed  as  to  numbers,  or  limited  as  to  means, 
their  sphere  may  be,  they  would  try  and  give  as  much  2:>leasure 
and  as  little  pain  as  possible,  and  not  give  way  to  that  most 
common  of  all  sins,  the  "  leprosy  of  laziness,  in  sins  of  omission; 
they  would  soon  be  surprised  at  discovering  how  many  un- 
dreamt of  oases  and  gushing  rills  of  living  water  there  are 
even  in  the  most  seemingly  barren  and  ungrateful  deserts. 
But,  alas  !  ye  Dives  of  this  world,  as  Spencer  feelingly  expresses 
it  in  his  "  Mother  Hubbard's  Tale  "— 

"Full  little  knowest  thoii  that  hast  not  tried, 
What  hell  it  is  in  suing  long  to  bide, 
To  lose  good  days  that  might  be  better  spent, 
To  waste  long  nights  in  pensive  discontent, 
To  speed  to-day — to  be  put  back  to-morrow, 
To  feed  on  hope — to  pine  with  fear  and  sorrow, 
To  have  thy  prince's  grace,  yet  want  her  peer's, 
To  have  thy  asking,  yet  wait  many  years. 
To  fret  thy  soul  with  crosses  and  with  cares. 
To  eat  thy  heart  with  comfortless  despairs. 
To  fawn,  to  crouch,  to  wait,  to  ride,  to  run. 
To  spend,  to  give,  to  want,  to  be  undone  ! 
Unhappy  wight !  born  to  disastrous  end, 
That  doth  his  Hfe,  in  so  long  tendance  spend." 

But  oh  !  far  more  hopelessly  unhappy  they  who  might  ease  all 
or  even  one  of  these  creature  trials,  the  offspring  of  our  common 
natur.e,  and  yet  we  omit  to  do  so ;  for  their  summer  day's  life 
must  also  end,  and  then  comes  the  fearful !  and  ruinous  reckon- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  475 

ing  for  their  hollow  and  selfish  pleasures,  when  they  who  in  their 
abundance  refused  the  crumbs  from  their  superfluity,  may  vainly 
crave  in  their  extremity  for  the  one  drop  of  cold  water  ! 

ISTot  any  of  these  thoughts  however  crossed  the  clever  man's 
mind,  as  with  a  tremulous  hand  he  knocked  at  Lady  Mammon- 
ton's  door ;  on  the  contrary,  he  essayed  to  rise  in  his  stirrups 
and  clear  all  present  obstacles  by  vaulting  over  into  the 
arena  of  his  public  reputation  or  celebrity,  which  was  all  he 
cared  for. 

"  For  the  children  of  this  world  are  wiser  in  their  genera- 
tion than  the  children  of  hght."  Still,  although  unencumbered 
by  a  heart,  he  had  a  superabundance  of  nerves,  Avhich  had  been 
greatly  flurried  within  the  last  few  days  ;  for  the  day  after  poor 
Adelaida's  suicide  he  had  repaired  in  great  haste  to  Lady 
Moncton's,  not  only  to  tell  her  the  story  he  wished  disseminated 
in  the  w^orld,  but  also  to  collect  the  ill-fated  German  girl's 
clothes  and  papers,  under  the  pretext  of  sending  them  to  her 
mother,  but  in  reality  to  ascertain  beyond  a  doubt,  that  they 
contained  nothing  that  could  possibly  criminate  him  by  giving 
the  world  any  clue  to  the  revolting  truth  of  his  conduct  towards 
her  ;  for  the  hurried  lines  which  the  poor  creature  had  in  her  last 
agony  scrawled,  and  left  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  by  merely 
stating  that  he  would  not  marry  her,  left  an  open  space  of  con- 
jecture for  him  to  fill  up  as  he  pleased.  Such  relays  of  assist- 
ance, in  their  most  critical  dilemmas,  does  the  devil  ever  send 
forward  to  his  favourite  votaries. 

"  How's  my  aunt  ? "  asked  he  hastily,  as  soon  as  the  door 
was  opened,  pulhng  his  under-lip  the  while,  as  if  in  so  doing 
there  was  a  counter  charm  against  any  ill  tidings  he  might 
hear. 

"  Well,  sir,  upon  the  whole,  I  think  her  ladyship  is  pretty 
well,"  said  Pumilion,  with  even  more  than  the  dignity  of  a 
butler,  for  it  was  almost  with  the  mysterious  importance  of  a 
prime  minister  that  these,  in  themselves  simple  words,  were 
uttered. 


476  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  These  d d  servants  ! "  thought  Mr.  Ponsonbj  Ferrars ; 

"  they  always  know  or  suspect  everything  one  don't  want  them 
to  know.     Anybody  with  her  ?  "  added  he  aloud — 

"JSTot  at  present,  sir,  but  Mr.  Slimeycraft  has  been  here  all 
the  morninQ:  till  about  ten  minutes  ao;o."     And  in  volunteerinoj 

O  o  O 

this  last  piece  of  intelligence,  an  incipient  smile,  half  pitying, 
half  protecting,  ht  up  not  only  Mr.  PumiHon's  face,  but  seemed 
also  to  illuminate  the  whole  of  his  portly  person  ;  for  which  the 
clever  man  felt  the  strongest  possible  inclination  to  knock  him 
down,  had  not  his  cleverness  in  time  suggested  the  great  im- 
pohcy  of  such  a  proceeding. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  that  although  Lady  Mammonton  was 
a  particularly  early  riser,  she  was  never  the  first  in  the  house  to 
know  the  daily  news,  as  Pumilion  was  by  far  too  ^j^o^Vti  de  vice 
a  servant  to  think  of  placing  the  morning  papers  on  the  break- 
fast table  without  their  being  duly  aired  ;  and  the  most  effectual 
method  of  achieving  this  point,  he  thought,  was  to  read  them 
himself  first,  before  the  pantry  fire,  so  that  he  was  perfectly  au 
courant  to  the  two  little  biographical  sketches  of  which  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  was  the  hero ;  and  for  that  matter  so  were 
the  two  footmen,  as  they  tried  to  stand  respectfully  on  one  side 
to  let  their  mistress's  nephew  pass  ;  but  still  an  air  of  conscious- 
ness seemed  to  pervade  them  to  their  very  powder,  for  what 
are  footmen  but  the  ambulating  mirrors  of  a  butler  ? — so  that 
the  substance  of  any  family  anecdotes  centred  in  Pumihon  was 
sure  to  be  reflected  by  them.  There  was  something,  too,  more 
than  usually  elastic  in  Pumilion's  step  as  it  rebounded  over  the 
thick  Axminster  stair-carpet,  while  he  j^receded  the  clever  man 
up-stairs,  and  threw  open  the  door  of  a  little  room  called  the 
boudoii',  and  much  more  literally  named  than  those  domiciliary 
bijoux  generally  are ;  as  it  w^as  into  this  little  sanctum  that  Lady 
Mammonton  usually  retired  whenever  she  was  labouring  under 
a  fit  of  the  sulks,  or  an  attack  of  the  spleen ;  consequently,  in 
this  small  room  of  her  large  house  it  was  that  her  ladyship 
passed  the  most  of  her  time. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  4*77 

When  Pumilion  opened  the  door  and  announced  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby  Ferrars,  she  was  sitting  in  the  corner  of  a  divan  with  her 
bonnet  on,  ready  equipped  for  her  diurnal  drive  after  luncheon, 
"  The  Morning  Puff"  in  hand,  reading  with  the  same  gusto  that 
she  might  have  done  the  last  new  novel,  the  account  of  poor 
Fraulein's  suicide,  which  had  been  greatly  and  beautifully  em- 
bellished for  the  occasion,  with  a  charming  mise  en  scene  of  an 
allegorical  tableau  of  Virtue  weeping  over  the  frailty  of  Love ! 
in  the  background ;  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  en  herd's  de  ro- 
77ian,  in  the  foreground,  crowned  with  roses,  it  is  true,  but  still 
lacerated  by  their  thorns,  at  the  tragedy  of  which  his  fatal  at- 
tractions and  rigid  principles !  had  been  the  innocent  causes, 
and  which  would  be  as  good  as  a  puff  of  fifty-publisher  power 
to  him,  not  only  all  over  the  immoral  Continent,  but  through- 
out "  moral !  England  "  itself. 

No  sooner  had  Pumilion  closed  the  door — an  effort  of  self- 
disciphne  that  he  did  not  accompHsh  without  bestowing  the 
very  antipodes  of  a  benediction  upon  that  ridiculous  fashion  of 
2')ortie7'es,  which  rendered  keyholes  perfectly  useless — than  the 
clever  man  glided  forward,  and  dropping  upon  one  knee,  and 
rapturously  seizing  Lady  Mammonton's  skinny  hand  (a  piece  of 
buffoonery  of  which  the  old  lady  was  particularly  fond),  he  ex- 
claimed, with  an  air  and  tone  as  if  overwhelmed  with  grief  and 
penetrated  with  remorse, — 

"Oh!  my  dearest  aunt,  I  fear  that  those  two  horrid  para- 
graphs must  have  annoyed  and  distressed  you  ;  and  if  so,  I  shall 
never  forgive  myself.  Indeed,  the  affair  of  that  poor  misguided 
German  girl  (whom  I  did  my  best  to  serve,  getting  Lady  Monc- 
ton  to  take  her  as  a  governess,  little  dreaming  she  cared  for  me  !) 
will  be  an  incubus  to  me  for  the  rest  of  my  life."  And  he  cov- 
ered his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  Oh  !  that^  my  dear  Henry,  only  redounds  in  every  way  to 
your  credit ;  and  it's  not  your  fault  if  nature  has  made  you  so 
attractive,  and  if  young  women  will  be  so  silly.  But  this  hor- 
rid marriage  of  yours  !  that,  indeed,  is  much  more  unpardon- 


4l8  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

able.  And  though  it  is  lucky  the  forward  creature  is  dead  (for 
/  never  should  have  received  her)  yet  it  is  terrible  her  having 
left  three  children,  and  two  of  them  sons !  And  your  having 
been  married  so  long  ago,  makes  them  legitimate,  it  is  true, 
but  for  that  very  reason  will  cause  me  to  make  a  considerable 
difference  in  the  disposal  of  my  property." 

"  Good  heavens !  my  dearest  aunt,"  cried  Mi-.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  now  unaffectedly  blanched  with 
genuine  terror,  "did  not  Slimey  craft  tell  you  that  there  were  no 
children  ?  And  here,"  added  he,  seizing  "  The  Morning  Puff' 
with  both  his  trembling  hands,  and  pointing  to  the  paragraph, 
"  done  to  order," — "  you  see  my  marriage  with  the  girl  was  a 
compulsory  one,  on  her  death-bed,  to  satisfy  the  scruples  of  the 
father,  who  is  a  country  parson." 

"  Oh !  yes,  yes ;  but  look  here,"  rejoined  Lady  Mammon- 
ton — shaking  her  head  solemnly,  as  she  produced  "  The  Times  " 
from  under  the  squab  of  the  divan  w^here  she  had  carefully  hid- 
den it — "  here  is  this  Mr.  Wilmot's  statement,  made  with  the 
most  terrible  minuteness ;  and  here  is  his  letter  to  me,  in  which 
he  repeats  all  this  statement,  and  says  he  can  show  me,  or  my 
lawyer,  the  marriage  certificate.  Now,  if  it  is  so,  this  is  what  I 
never  will  and  never  can  forgive  you,  to  have  so  deceived  me  ! 
And  svorse  still,"  (for  her  ladyship  always  graduated  the  scale 
of  morality !  and  hence  her  nephew's  nice  moral  sense,)  "  yes, 
infinitely  worse !  your  so  degrading  yourself  as  to  marry  a 
country  clergyman's  daughter  ! — a  nobody  !  "  screamed  the  old 
lady  in  alto.  During  this  address,  for  about  a  second,  the 
clever  man  physically  felt  as  if  his  patron  saint  in  pro2:>ria  per- 
so7ia  had  been  choking  him  ;  but  rallying  with  a  desperate  ef- 
fort (for  what  is  the  use  of  high-pressure  patent  villany  if  it  is 
not  equal  to  all  emergencies),  he  said — 

"  Well  now,  really,  my  dear  aunt,  for  a  woman  of  your 
shrewdness  and  intense  clear-sightedness  (for  I  don't  know  so 
clever  a  woman  anywhere),  I  wonder  you  don't  see  that  the 
whole  of  this  elaborate  statement  of  pretended  facts  is  all  a  got- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  479 

up  tiling — a  ruse^  in  fact  of  old  Wilmot's  ;  and  perhaps  not  an 
unpardonable  one  for  a  man  in  bis  position,  to  patcb  up  bis 
daughter's  reputation  ;  and  as  she  lived  with  me  some  time,  of 
course  he'd  antedate  the  marriage." 

"  Ay,  but  the  children  ! "  broke  in  the  old  lady. 

"  Bah  !  my  dear  aunt,  another  ruse  of  old  Wilmot's  ;  doubt- 
less to  goad  you  or  me  to  get  him  a  fat  living  to  contradict  this 
statement ;  for  those  parsons  have  always  an  eye  to  the  main 
chance.     There  are  no  children,  I  tell  you." 

"But  the  marriage  certificate,  which  he  says  he  can  show 
to  me  or  to  my  lawyer,  but  which  he  won't  trust  out  of  his  pos- 
session ? " 

"  Why,  of  course,  another  ruse ;  some  vamped-up  forgery 
or  other.  And  as  to  your  sending  your  solicitor  to  see  it,  I 
think  it  would  be  infra  dig.  in  the  extreme  for  you  even  to  let 
Quibble  and  Graball,  your  solicitors,  know  that  you  for  a  mo- 
ment credited  such  a  statement !  As  if  I  would,  or  could  de- 
ceive you,  my  dearest  aunt,  after  all  your  kindness  to  me.  I 
do  not,  of  course,  presume  to  dictate  to  you,  whose  sense  I  al- 
ways feel  to  be  so  superior  to  my  own  ;  but  if  I  might  advise,  I 
should  say,  do  as  I  do  with  all  such  slanders,  treat  them  with 
contempt.     This  is  always  my  plan." 

And  the  plan  of  most  liars,  where  a  stubborn  truth  is  con- 
cerned, that  they  would  not  for  the  woi'ld  awaken,  for  fear  of 
its  trumpet  tongue  ! 

"  But,"  added  he,  "  if  you  have  any  curiosity  about  seeing 
into  this  forgery,  I  would  send  Slimey craft  to  investigate  the 
matter ;  and  also  to  tell  the  old  fellow,  that  he  had  better  be 
quiet,  as  neither  you  nor  I  are  the  sort  of  people  to  be  intimi- 
dated into  giving  a  bribe  to  arrest  a  calumny.  Besides,  as  a 
clever  woman  of  the  world,  you  must  know  that  nothing  has  so 
short  a  memory  as  the  said  world — forgetting  everything  at  the 
end  of  nine  days  if  things  are  only  quietly  let  to  drop.  But  in 
taking  up  on  dits  to  refute  them,  it  is  we  ourselves  who  stamp 
them  witli  the  die  of  fjict,  and  issue  them  foi-  o-eneral  circula- 


480  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

tion.  And  I  must  say,  my  dearest  aunt,  that  I  am  not  a  little 
hurt  to  think  that  you  should  believe  this  interested  and  mush- 
room parson's  statement  before  MY  honour  ! " 

"  Well,  my  dear  Henry,"  said  Lady  Mammonton,  complete- 
ly hoth-eared,  between  his  copious  flattery  and  his  consummate 
audacity,  "  as  the  mother  is  luckily  dead,  it  is  not  so  much  mat- 
ter about  the  marriage,  but  will  you  take  your  oath  on  the  Bi- 
ble,— for  you  know  I  am  very  rehgious  (!) — that  you  have  no 
sons,  or  indeed  any  children  by  this  woman  ? " 

"  To  be  sure  I  will,  my  dear  aunt,"  said  he,  taking  the  prof- 
fered book  with  one  hand  fi'om  her,  and  replacing  it  on  the  ta- 
ble with  the  other,  as  he  added,  in  a  wheedling  tone,  again 
sinking  on  one  knee  before  her,  "  At  the  same  time,  I  would 
rather  kiss  you, — " 

Here,  to  the  clever  man's  no  small  relief,  the  door  of  the 
boudoir  was  again  opened,  the  i^ortiere  raised,  and  Pumilion, 
in  his  most  sonorous  voice,  announced — 

"  Mr.  Stuckup  Starchington,  my  Lady  !  "  at  the  same  time 
following  the  reverend  gentleman  into  the  room,  to  place  a 
chair  for  him,  while  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  had  barely  time  to 
rise  from  his  devotions,  regain  his  feet,  and  make  a  stiff  bow  to 
the  stiff  clergyman,  whom  he  did  not  know ;  the  former  being 
a  recent  trouvail  of  his  aunt's. 

The  Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington,  who  had  been  cast  at  the 
regular  Church  and  State  foundry,  was  so  far  a  man  of  metal, 
that  he  looked,  and  performed  all  the  functions  of  existence 
(preaching  included)  like  a  cast-iron  machine  ;  but  to  rich  dow- 
agers he  was  particularly  dulcifluous,  clearly  demonstrating  to 
their  satisfaction,  that  however  difficult  it  might  be  for  "  a  rich 
man  to  enter  the  kino-dom  of  Heaven,"  there  was  nothino^  easier 
than  for  a  rich  woman  to  do  so,  who  had  her  property  at  her 
own  disposal ;  and  fulfilled  his  missions  by  minding  her  Starch- 
ington,— not  that  he  ever  talked  religion  out  of  the  pulpit,  or 
preached  Christianity  in  it,  for  he  was  too  well-bred  to  do  the 
former,  and  too  orthodox  to  do  the  latter,  so  that  his  conversa- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES,  481 

tion  consisted  of  an  agreeable  and  well-selected  assortment  of 
small-talk,  very  soothing,  not  to  say  very  somniferous,  and  his 
sermons  of  such  a  tangle  of  texts,  and  doctrinal  hard  knots,  as 
would  have  puzzled  the  Fathers  thenselves;  or  even  the  dowa- 
gers, his  chief  patronesses  ;  only  that  from  not  understanding 
one  word  of  his  exordiums,  they  naturally  concluded  that  they 
were  extremely  profound,  and  of  course  felt  proportionately  edi- 
fied. Out  of  gratitude  for  this  gratuitous  attention  of  theii-s — 
w^e  say  gratuitous,  because  they  did  not  reap  any  informa- 
tion in  return  for  it, — the  Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington  held 
a  sort  of  weekly  Cossack  Psychological  Zenana,  consisting 
entirely  of  old  women  and  old  maids.  These  were  held  in 
a  fashionable  assembly  room  ;  w'herein,  however,  a  line  of 
demarcation  was  drawn,  in  the  shape  of  an  old  red  cloth  cur- 
tain brought  across  the  room,  to  shut  out  the  profane  locale  of 
such  worldly  doings  as  were  enacted  there  at  other  times  ;  and 
before  this  curtain  was  erected,  not  exactly  a  temporary  pulpit, 
but  a  square  box,  the  facsimile  of  that  in  which  Punch  enacts 
the  moral  and  domestic  drama  of  his  successful  career,  save  that 
this  one  had  no  top  to  it,  or  the  reverend  gentleman  would  not 
have  had  room  to  be  stuck  up  in  it  (and  which,  from  the  golden 
harvest  he  reaped,  he  had  never  yet  found  to  be  the  wrong  box). 
He  w^eekly  held  forth,  before  a  decanter  of  water,  a  tumbler,  and 
about  a  hundred  and  fifty  dowagers,  upon  some  one  phrase, 
which  he  patiently,  and  emphatically  reiterated,  for  about  an 
hour  and  a  quarter ;  and  which  explained  itself  at  the  end  to 
mean,  that  they  were  to  subscribe  liberally  to  some  mission  in 
Mexico,  or  some  conflagration  in  Cornwall ;  or  to  some  private 
fund  to  enable  parish  beadles  and  churchwardens  to  attend  to 
their  duties,  and  dine  more  comfortably  and  less  onerously  toge- 
ther, on  the  occasion  of  any  parochial  meeting.  Then  would 
the  old  ladies  simultaneously  wake  up,  as  if  stirred  by  some  por- 
tion of  the  machinery  extending  from  the  lecturer  ;  and,  fum- 
bling for  their  purses,  would  ask  each  other  if  Mr.  Starchington 
had  not  been  heavenly  !  that  evening. 
21 


482  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Aye,  dear  creature  !  he's  always  the  same  !  "  would  reply 
the  dowager  so  interrogated ;  "  he  never  fails  one !  "  and  she 
could  not  have  said  more,  nor  less,  of  a  dose  of  morphine,  or  of 
lettuce  pills,  neither  could  they  have  produced  calmer  slumbers 
than  did  the  monotonous  mouthings  of  the  Rev.  Stuckup  Starch- 
ington ;  while  he,  as  he  saw  the  bright  sovereigns  and  crisp  five 
and  ten  pound  notes  shower  into  the  plates,  looked  complacent- 
ly from  them  to  the  donors,  and  thought,  such  is  the  triumph 
of  mind  over  matter,  that — 

"  Age  could  not  wither,  nor  custom  stale 
Their  infinite  variety.' ' 

The  reverend  gentleman  had  called  on  this  particular  morn- 
ing with  a  small  tissue  paper  full  of  httle  fluffy,  nearly  impal- 
pable grains.  They  were  the  seed  of  a  sort  of  aerial  anemone, 
called  the  Marvel  of  Cathay,  and  indigenous  to  China,  where 
they  grow  in  little  starry,  shadowy,  blue  flowers,  about  bowers 
and  arbours,  without  any  apparent  root  or  stem.  These  seeds 
were  the  first  ever  imported  into  England;  and  he  brought 
them  as  a  rare  offering  to  Lady  Mammonton  :  for  he  was  full 
of  such  little  provenances  and  delicate  attentions,  whenever  there 
was  a  new  mission  on  the  tapis^  or  u'hcrever  there  was  money 
to  be  obtained  for  it. 

Her  ladyship  having  expressed  herself  delighted  with  being 
the  possessor  of  such  a  treasure,  and  said  that  she  should  in- 
stantly forward  it  to  Fergusson,  her  gardener,  at  Mammonton 
and  order  him  to  try  it  in  the  winter  garden,  which  was  always 
kept  at  tropical  heat ;  and  the  Reverend  Stuckup  Starchington 
having  on  his  part,  said  that  he  knew  no  one  so  worthy  of  it  as 
her  ladyship,  which,  considering  the  nature  of  the  flower,  was  a 
compliment  un  peu  en  Vair  ;  he  then  turned  to  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars,  whom  Lady  Mammonton,  ha\nng  introduced  by  name 
as  her  nephew,  the  reverend  gentleman  said  how  highly  honour- 
ed he  felt  in  seeing  so  distinguished  a  personage,  and  one  whose 
writings  were  calculated  to  do  so  much  good  (!).     To  which  the 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  483 

clever  man,  having  modestly  and  truthfully  replied,  that  to  do 
good  was  the  sole  aim  of  his  humble  existence ;  and  the  Re- 
verend Stuckup  Starchington  having  rejoined,  with  equal  truth, 
that  he  would  not  be  Lady  Mammonton's  nephew  were  it  other- 
wise, then  proceeded  to  the  real  gist  of  his  visit,  by  abstracting 
from  his  pocket  little  duodecimo  prospectuses,  beautifully  print- 
ed on  hot-pressed  paper,  of  an  intended  mission  into  the  inte- 
rior of  Central  America,  for  the  discovery,  recovery  and  conver- 
sion of  of  the  Aztecs,  as  a  peculiar  people^ — though  not  exactly 
God's  peculiar  people — and,  of  course,  as  there  is  so  little  igno- 
rance, heathenism,  distress,  and  abject  misery  of  every  grade, 
shade,  and  colour  at  our  own  gates,  groaning  under  every  hedge 
of  our  country,  and  skulking  through  every  street  and  alley  of 
our  great  Babylon,  th.en  followed  an  eloquent  appeal — not  in- 
deed to  every  Briton  to  set  sail,  for  it  was  much  better  for  such 
purposes,  that  they  should  anchor,  and  never  launch  out  into  a 
wider  ocean  of  knowledge  ; — but  that  every  Briton's  gold 
should  instantly  set  sail  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  Aztecs, 
which  might  yet  be  discovered  and  recovered  as  a  nation ; — 
thereby  pro\ing  by  practical  illustration,  that  riches  do  indeed 
"  make  to  themselves  wings !  "  and  heading  each  of  these  pros- 
pectuses was  a  charming  little  sketch  of  the  two  extant  Aztecs, 
with  their  swinish  profiles,  which  was  evidently  a  prima  facice 
way  of  intimating  that  subscribers  to  the  Mission  were  expected 
to  go  the  whole  animal  ! 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  clever  man,  having  seen  the 
Aztec  young  lady  exhibited  in  London,  felt  very  little  interest 
in  her  conversion,  or  even  in  her  perversion,  which  was  much 
more  in  his  way  ;  but  still,  it  being  part  of  his  game  to  have  his 
name  eternally  before  the  pubhcin  print  in  some  shape  or  other, 
and  one  of  his  trump-cards  being  public  subscriptions  (for  he 
never  gave  a  shilling  to  private  or  individual  charities,  on  prin- 
ciple ! — for  every  vice  is  on  principle !  now-a-days — the  princi- 
ple of  making  the  worse  appear  the  better  reason  on  all  occa- 
sions)— he  now,  after  a  pompous  eulogium  upon  the  Rev.  Stuck- 
up  Starchington's  profound  piety  (I)  and  the  extreme  usefulness 


484  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

of  his  Mission,  put  liis  name  down  for  £50  ;  and  wrote  a  cheque 
for  that  amount,  at  which  the  Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington  was 
overwhelmed  with  gratitude  and  surprise,  (as  well  he  might 
be !)  and  Lady  Mammonton  said — 

"  Well,  my  dear  Henry,  that  is  very  good  of  you,  I'm  sure ; 
very — but,"  added  she,  with  a  little  chuckle,  and  turning  to  Mr. 
Starchington — for  she  was  not  one  who  ever  liked  to  hide  her 
light  under  a  bushel — for,  indeed,  as  she  very  sensibly  thought, 
of  what  use  is  light  so  hidden  ? — "  he  knows  very  well  that  I 
shall  give  it  back  to  him,  for  all  these  things  generally  come  out 
of  my  pocket !  " 

"  Most  noble  !  of  your  ladyship ;  and  how  fortunate  !  that 
Providence  should  have  bestowed  upon  you  a  purse  sufficiently 
extensive  and  ever  open  (!)  to  keep  pace  with  so  liberal  a  mind ! " 
But  perceiving  at  half  a  glance,  that  the  clever  man  by  no 
means  relished  this  public  allusion  of  his  aunt's  to  the  leading- 
strings'  state  of  his  finances,  the  reverend  gentleman  secured  the 
cheque  for  £50,  and  dexterously  changed  the  subject,  by  saying 
to  him — 

"  I'm  sure  I  should  be  the  very  last  person  to  praise,  much 
less  to  recommend  anything  Popish ! — even  an  elixir  ;  but  I  have 
been  trying  to  persuade  her  Ladyship  to  try  some  of  that  real- 
ly miraculous  cordial  made  at  the  grande  Chartreuse — its  vivi- 
fying, I  had  almost  said  its  rejuvenating  effects,  are  really  won- 
derful ! — and  I  don't  think  Lady  Mammonton  takes  sufficient 
nourishment." 

"Ah  !  no, — I  don't  thing  she  does.  I  wish  my  dear  aunt 
youM  try  and  take  Mum,"  added  her  nephew,  who  even  into 
his  persijiage  always  must  needs  throw  in  a  spice  of  pedantry. 

"Mum!  my  dear,  what  on  earth  is  that?  I've  heard 
of  mum-chance ;  but  I  never,  by  any  chance,  heard  of  taking 
mum." 

"  Why,  my  dear  aunt,  I  don't  exactly  know  how  it  is 
made ;  but  it  is  what  Lady  Masham  gave  Locke  when  he  was 
ill,"  (he  did  not  say  when  he  was  dying) — "  and  it  w^as  the  only 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  485 

thing  that  revived  him,  or  did  him  any  good  ;  and  as  such  a 
beverage  once  existed,  I  should  think  it  still  existed,  and  might 
be  easily  discovered." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  her  head  with 
a  slight  shudder — "  you're  a  vast  deal  too  clever  for  me  ! — and 
you  know,  I  know  nothing  about  Locke,  and  detest  metaphysics 
so  much,  I  would  rather  swallow  all  the  physic  in  Savory  and 
Moore's  shop  any  day." 

Here  Pumilion  announced  luncheon.  There  was  something 
exhilarating  in  the  sound,  which  always  communicated  to  the 
Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington  a  sort  of  spurious  facetiousness — 
so  now,  as  he  oftered  his  arm  to  Lady  Mammonton,  he  ventur- 
ed to  launch  his  first  small  jest  upon  the  shallow  stream  of  so- 
ciety, by  observing,  with  a  smile,  which  served  as  a  link  to  show 
where  the  joke  was  to  those  present,  that  he  supposed  mum  was 
a  dilution  of  ^'-  Locke  on  the  Human  Understanding  !  " 

"  Very  likely,"  said  the  lady,  not  in  the  least  suspecting 
that  the  reverend  gentleman  had  said  anything  that  required  a 
laugh;  while  her  nephew,  from  a  fellow-feeling,  more  alive  to 
conversational  expectations,  bestowed  the  obolus  of  a  ha  I  ha  ! 
upon  him,  as  he  followed  them  down  stairs,  adding — 

"  At  all  events  it  is  certain  that  some  person's  understandings 
are  mum  all  their  lives." 

"  What  will  you  take  ?  "  asked  Lady  Mammonton,  appeal- 
ing to  her  guest.  "  This  is  only  a  neck  of  venison,  which  per- 
haps you  don't  like  ;  but  I  recommend  you  to  try  those  lobster 
cutlets,  and  those  ^^e^i^s  ^xfm,  a  sort  of  brioche  bread,  both  of 
which  my  cook  is  famous  for ;  the  bread  he  learned  to  make 
when  he  was  with  me  at  Dresden." 

Now  the  Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington,  being  humble-minded, 
did  not  by  any  means  despise  a  neck  of  venison  (at  least  when 
a  haunch  was  not  there)  ;  still,  with  an  orthodox  cleaving  to 
the  loaves  and  fishes,  and  a  prudential  determination  of  follow- 
ing his  patroness's  advice,  he  contented  himself  with  the  lobster 


486  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

cutlets  and  petits  pain,  which  he  found  did  not  belie  their  re- 
putation.    As  for  the  clever  man, — 

"He  could  not  eat,  he  could  not  eat, 
His  stomach  was  not  good  ; 
But  he  could  drink,  but  he  could  drink, 
With  him  who  wears  a  hood !  " 

So  that  Lady  Mammonton's  sparkling  moselle  suffered  accord- 
ingly ;  and  while  he  attended  to  his  own  libations,  the  reverend 
gentleman  was  assiduously  pressing  his  hostess  to  eat ;  and  on 
this  occasion  he  enforced  precept  by  example,  making  the  latter 
rather  exceed  than  fall  short  of  the  former  ;  and  whether  it  was 
this  bright  example,  or  the  injfluence  of  the  still  more  brilliant 
moselle,  it  is  impossible  to  say ;  but  nothing  could  be  more 
blandly,  fondly,  tenderly  amiable  than  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  was 
to  his  aunt ;  so  that  when  the  chariot  came  to  the  door,  he  en- 
treated— nay,  more,  he  insisted — that  she  should  allow  him  to  have 
the  happiness  (that  was  the  word)  of  accompanying  her  in  her 
drive.  Now  really  this  was  most  amiable  and  self-sacrificing  of 
him,  as  on  the  warmest  summer's  day  (not  that  our  well-regu- 
lated climate  is  ever  guilty  of  any  great  extremes  in  that  way) 
Lady  Mammonton  alsvays  kept  the  windows  up  ;  and  there  was, 
moreover,  a  combined  and  concentrated  odour  of  ether  and 
snutF,  peculiarly  unpleasant  to  all  olfactory  nerves  but  her  own ; 
or  what  her  nephew  would  have  designated  a  ceaseless  struggle 
between  the  real  and  the  ideal,  in  which  the  latter — as  it  al- 
ways did  with  him — greatly  predominated.  Not  so  with  the 
Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington,  who  always  kept  a  sharp  look-out 
after  the  real,  or  in  other  words,  the  needful;  so,  making  quite 
sure  that  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  cheque  was  safely  ensconced 
within  his  waistcoat  pocket,  he  rose  with  a  gentle  sigh,  whether 
of  repletion  or  regret  none  but  himself  could  tell,  from  table,  and 
again  gracefully  and  gallantly  offered  his  arm  to  Lady  Mam- 
monton, to  conduct  her  to  her  carriage,  wherein  having  safely 
placed  her,  he  turned  to  the  clever  man,  and  taking  off  his  hat 


BEHIND    TPIE    SCENES.  48*7 

and  extending  his  exceedingly  white  hand,  which  looked  as  if  it 
had  been  marshaHing  missions  of  almond  paste  and  pa ie  f/e  miel 
all  its  life,  again  thanked  him  in  a  loud  voice  for  his  munificent 
subscription  to  the  Aztec  Discoverative,  Recoverative,  Regene- 
rative Association,  and  finally  turning  to  kiss  his  hand  to  Lady 
Mammonton,  humbly  ventured  to  hope  that,  with  her  usual  be- 
nevolence, she  would  not  forget  his  jooor  heathens^  at  his  lecture 
on  Thursday. 

While  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  could  not  help  thinking  in  his 
own  mind,  as  he  sprang  into  the  carriage  determined,  by  bear- 
ing, to  conquer  his  fate,  that  the  Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington's  un- 
hatched  heathens  were  even  greater  myths  than  any  of  the  other 
numerous  rabble  of  the  heathen  mythology  with  whom  he  was 
already  acquainted,  but  he  took  especial  care,  not  to  say  so  ;  for, 
as  the  chief  magi  of  the  order  of  Charlatans,  he  had  the  great- 
est possible  veneration  and  consideration  for  all  humbugs,  what- 
ever branch  of  the  science  they  might  pursue ;  whether  in  its 
higher,  its  mediocre,  or  even  its  lowest  walks ;  for  his  theory 
was  that  clever  people  were  sent  into  the  world  to  do,  and  fools 
to  be  done^  so  that  "  animated  nature,"  as  far  as  the  human 
species  was  concerned,  in  his  system,  was  composed  of  but  these 
two  classes  the  biter  and  the  bitten.  And  he  once,  in  a  private 
lecture  (for  these  things  don't  do  for  the  pubhc),  but  quite  en 
2^etit  comite  to  some  cronies  of  his  ow^n  way  of  thinking,  had 
beautifully  and  practically  illustrated  this  proposition  by  shew- 
ing, through  the  medium  of  a  solar  microscope,  how  the  mon- 
sters, even  in  one  drop  of  water,  devoui-ed  and  preyed  upon 
each  other ;  where  it  was,  nevertheless,  quite  clear  to  the  com- 
monest capacity  that  the  eaters  were  not  the  eaten^  and  vice 
versa. 

"  Where  to,  my  lady  ?  "  asked  James,  the  footman,  tired  of 
waiting. 

"  Well,  I  think  about  the  green  lanes  of  Kensington." 

"  Oh !  my  dear  aunt,  wdiat  can  possess  you  to  go  there  ?  bad 
air,  and  all  sorts  of  things,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrai-s,  in  great 


488  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

trepidation.  "  You  had  mucli  better  go  to  Chiswick,  or  Fulhanij 
or  Richmond." 

"  Nonsense  !  my  dear,  the  air  of  Kensington  is  particularly 
good ;  and  I'm  fond  of  those  old  green  lanes,  and  it's  not  too 
far  and  don't  tire  the  horses, — to  Kensington,  Jeemes." 

And  before  the  clever  man  could  make  any  further  remon- 
strances, Jeemes  had  shut  to  the  door,  got  up  behind,  given  the 
order,  and  the  carriage  had  driven  off.  Rejoicing,  however,  on 
the  whole,  that  this  much-dreaded  interview  had  passed  off,  up 
to  the  present  time,  so  much  better  than  he  could  possibly  have 
expected,  and  determined  to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shone — 
which  it  did  most  unpleasantly  at  that  moment,  full  into  his 
eyes,  accompanied  by  the  fumes  of  the  snuff  and  the  ether ; 
for,  like  all  old  people,  Lady  Mammonton  was  fond  of  a  glare  of 
light,  and  would  not  have  a  single  blind  down, — her  nephew 
now  began  in  a  coaxing,  yet  deferential  tone,  with — 

"  My  dearest  aunt,  I  have  been  wanting  for  some  time  past  to 
ask  your  consent  and  advice  about  my  marriage  with  Lady 
Mabel  Maiden,  an  exceedingly  fine  woman,  certainly,  but  I  con- 
fess her  unusually  large  jointure  is  the  chief  attraction  for  me  ; 
for,  theoretically  speaking,  I  have  a  prejudice  against  marrying 
a  widow,  for  they  have  either  loved  or  hated  another  man,  and 
either,  to  me,  is  an  insuperable  objection,  as  in  the  first  instance 
they  have  felt  too  much,  and  in  the  second  they  know  too 
much  ;  for,  in  marriage,  hatred  is  knowledge,  and  women  should 
be  the  reverse  of  horses ;  one  gets  others  to  break  in  one's 
horses,  but  one  likes  to  break  in  one's  women  oneself.  Some 
persons  believe  in  indifference,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  in  the 
marriage  state ;  it  is  always  like  the  institution  itself,  horribly 
prononce,  love  or  hatred,  though  most  generally  the  latter  ;  in 
what  are  called  love  affairs  there  may  be  indifference,  for  in 
most  of  them  people  never  love  enough  to  hate,  or  feel  enough 
to  love,  and  neither  have  the  power  nor  the  opportunity  of  in- 
juring the  other  sufficiently  (as  in  marriage)  to  rivet  disappoint- 
ment or  desertion  into  antipathy." 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  489 

"  Good  gracious  !  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  looking  both 
mystified  and  alarmed,  "  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  Mr. 
Starchington  would  say  to  your  opinions  upon  matrimony  ;  but 
with  regard  to  Lady  Mabel,  that  I  think  a  most  sensible  and 
eligible  match,  and  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  it  is  en  train^ 
for  Miss  Delazouche,  who  called  upon  me  the  other  morning, 
rather  alarmed  me  by  saying  that  you  had  had  a  disappoint- 
ment about  that  handsome  gid,  that  Miss  Panmuir,  who  is  to 
marry  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale." 

"  My  dear  aunt,  how  you  can  I  listen  to  that  d d  gos- 

sipping  old  mummy,  Miss  Delazouche,"  cried  the  clever  man, 
nearly  stamping  the  floor  of  the  carriage  through  with  rage,  to 
think  that  any  one  should  presume  to  set  it  about  that  he  had 
been  disappointed,  for  fifty  dukes  !  much  less  for  one,  was  more 
than  his  intense  self  conceit  could  brook.  "  An  old  petrifac- 
tion," added  he,  "  who  never  knows  one  word  she  is  saying,  and 
who,  I  dare  say,  was  alluding  to  some  of  the  can-cans  of  her 
own  day,  when  Anthony  Ferrars  was,  I  believe,  refused  by  one 
of  the  Gunnings,  before  she  married  the  Duke  of  Hamilton ; 
for  old  Delazouche  herself  might  have  been  a  belle  about  that 
time,  and  I  dare  say  used  to  play  at  onihre  with  George  the  Se- 
cond, make  eyes  at  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  abuse  Lord 
Bolingbroke." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Lady  Mammonton,  who  felt 
that  her  nephew's  wilful  chronological  misstatements  almost 
amounted  to  personality.  "  You  know  very  well  that  Pamela 
Delazouche  is  not  nearly  as  old  as  George  the  Second's  time, 
for  /  remember  perfectly  before  I  was  out  myself,  hearing  on 
the  birth-night  that  she  was  first  presented,  so  much  of  her 
minuet  with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  that  it  was  which  got 
her  made  Maid  of  Honour  to  Queen  Charlotte,  which  you  know 
was  long  after  George  the  Second's  time  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  aware  of  that  fact,"  laughed  her  nephew,  as  he 
hastily  scratched  over  the  mist  made  by  his  own  breath  on  the 
21* 


490  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

window-glass,  the  words  "  old  goose  /"  and  as  hastily  obliterated 
them,  least  his  aunt  should  see  them. 

"  So  then,"  resum^  the  latter,  "  there  is  no  truth  in  this 
story  about  you  and  Miss  Panmuir  ?  " 

Here  an  idea  crossed  the  clever  man's  brain,  who  never  lost 
an  opportunity  (clever  men  never  do)  :  and  he  replied  with  a 
well  acted  air  of  modesty  and  reluctance,  knowing  full  well  that 
a  strict  injunction  to  secrecy  was  the  surest  method  to  make  his 
aunt  propagate  the  story  every  where,  beginning  with  the  vitu- 
perated Delazouche,  whose  single  tongue  was  quite  equivalent 
to  an  advertisement  in  each  of  the  daily  papers, — now  that  the 
stamp  duty  is  repealed. 

"  Why,  my  dear  aunt,  I  know  I  may  trust  you,  and  that  the 
matter  will  go  no  further ;  for,  considering  how  injurious  it 
would  be  to  the  poor  girl,  even  to  breaking  off  her  very  advan- 
tageous marriage ;  but  the  truth  is,  she  did  like  me^  and  if  I 
would  have  married  her  she  would  have  refused  the  Duke  of 
Liddesdale  ;  and  to  tell  me  this,  the  poor  creature  was  silly  and 
imprudent  enough  to  come  one  moraing  to  my  chambers,  at  the 
Albany,  and  as  I  was  expecting  a  visit  from  a  little  coryphee, 
who  arrived  while  she  was  there,  I  was  obliged,  for  an  hour  or 
two,  to  make  a  sort  of  oubliette  of  my  dressing-room,  and  thrust 
Miss  Panmuir  into  it,  till  Anatole  was  gone." 

Now  this  wicked  and  monstrous  falsehood  Mr.  Ponsonby 
Ferrars  was  well  aware  would  first  set  the  garbled  and  unravel- 
able  slander  afloat,  that  he  wished,  about  poor  Edith's  humane 
visit  to  Magnolia  Lodge,  while  he,  as  usual,  would  be  out  of  the 
scrape,  and  quite  safe,  by  always  employing  others  to  do  his 
dirty  work,  and  disseminate  his  lies. 

His  worthy  aunt,  not  the  least  shocked  at  his  ungentleman- 
like  and  dishonourable  conduct,  in  telling  such  a  thing,  even 
were  it  true  !  and  never  for  a  moment  suspecting  that  the  whole 
was  a  most  villainous  fjibrication,  to  ruin,  if  possible,  an  innocent 
and  exemplary  girl,  who  had  been  guilty  but  of  the  one  crime  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  491 

refusing  him,  she  said  with  a  smile,  whose  suavity  could  only 
be  equalled  by  its  silliness — 

'•  Well,  I'm  sure,  my  dear  Henry,  you  ought  to  be  very 
much  flattered  at  all  the  young  women  being  in  love  with  you 
in  this  way,  and  going  such  extravagant  lengths  about  you,  and 
it  is  very  much  to  your  credit  that  you  don't  take  advantage  of 
it;  for  I'm  sure  Mr.  Stuckup  Starchington  himself  could  not 
behave  better  than  you  seem  to  have  done  upon  all  these  occa- 
sions ;  but  I  suppose  the  men  are  different  now  to  what  they 
used  to  be  ;  for  such  things  as  I  heard  of  poor  dear  Lord  Mam- 
monton  when  George  the  Fourth  was  young ;  though  I'm  sure 
to  look  at  him  when  /  married  him,  nobody  could  have  believed 
them." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  nephew,  "  '  si  jeunesse  savait  ?  Si 
vieilesse  2^ouvait  P  therein  lies  the  whole  riddle  of  life,  my  dear 
aunt." 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation,  the  carriage  suddenly 
stopped,  the  duo  looked  out  simultaneously  through  the  front 
windows  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  stoppage ;  they  had  ar- 
rived at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  green  lanes  of  Kensington, 
it  was  that  one  which  led  to  Magnolia  Lodge,  and  the  cause  of 
the  impediment  was  a  hearse  drawn  by  four  horses,  and  followed 
by  three  mouraing  coaches  and  several  private  carriages. 

"  Dear  me,  how  unlucky  ! "  cried  Lady  Mammonton,  cover- 
ing her  face  with  her  hands ;  "they  say  there  is  nothing  so  omin- 
ous as  to  meet  a  funeral  full  face  ;  well,  it  cannot  be  helped ;  I 
suppose  I  shall  go  next ;  but,  as  Mr.  Stuckup  Starchington  said 
so  beautifully  and  originally,  at  his  last  Thursday's  lecture,  we 
must  all  go  some  time  or  other  !  My  dear,  tell  Jeemes  to  ask 
whose  funeral  it  is  ? " 

But  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars  would  be  very  sorry  to  have  de- 
legated that  mission  to  any  body.  So,  hastily  turning  the 
handle,  and  kicking  open  the  carriage-door  with  his  foot,  he 
sprang  to  the  ground.  He,  at  all  events,  was  at  no  loss  to 
conjecture  whose  funeral  it  was,  even  before  his  eyes  convinced 


492  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

him  of  the  truth  of  his  surmise.  Calling  to  the  coachman, 
sharply,  to  back,  as  he  himself  jumped  behind  a  hedge,  through 
the  tracery  of  the  green  leaves  he  could  contemplate  the  cortege 
at  his  ease.  Undei-  the  hearse  walked  poor  Alp,  his  ears  and 
his  tail  hanging  in  all  the  lank  lugubriousness  of  canine  grief. 
In  the  first  mourning  coach  he  espied  Mr.  Wilmot,  Alciphron 
Murray,  and  his  own  little  son,  Henry,  the  child's  face  clouded 
to  almost  as  sombre  a  hue  as  that  of  his  mourning  frock,  by  the 
dark  shadow  of  a  premature  sorrow.  In  the  second  coach  there 
w^as  only  Mrs.  Bousefield — all  weeds  (but  fresh  ones)  and  woe, 
sobbing  on  the  shoulder  of  Joe  Roberts,  the  extent  of  whose 
hat-band  exceeded  that  of  the  mutes.  While  in  the  third 
coach  were  the  three  female  servants,  who  had  composed  Flor- 
ence's small  household ;  then  followed  the  carriages  of  Colonel 
Chipchase,  and  those  of  about  a  dozen  of  other  friends,  at 
the  head  of  which  was  the  state  carriage  of  the  Duchess  of 
Liddesdale,  and  the  duke's  brougham,  with  that  of  Mr.  Rush- 
brook,  bringing  up  the  rear.  The  clever  man,  who,  at  the  sight 
of  the  hearse  and  the  mourning  coaches,  had  felt  a  sort  of  spas- 
modic uncomfortableness  about  the  region  of  the  left  side,  no 
sooner  perceived  the  Liddesdale  carriages  than  he  bit  his  lip 
nearly  through,  with  a  horrible  oath,  and  stamped  his  foot  till 
his  exquisitely  varnished  boot  became  imbedded  in  the  red  marl 
of  the  turnip  field  in  which  he  was  standing.  At  length,  the 
procession,  even  to  the  doctor's  carriage,  had  turned  the  corner 
into  the  high-road  leading  to  the  old  church,  where,  during  her 
lifetime,  it  had  always  been  Florence's  wish  that  her  remains 
should  rest. 

Had  the  whole  of  the  cortege  passed  over  him,  bodily,  Mr. 
Ponsonby  Ferrars  could  scarcely  have  felt  more  oppressed  while 
it  was  passing,  or  have  drawn  a  longer  breath  when  it  had 
passed ;  and  no  sooner  had  it  done  so,  than,  clearing  the  hedge 
at  a  bound,  he  returned  to  his  aunt  and  jumped  into  the  car- 
riage, as  if  life  and  death  (his  own  life  and  death  hien  entendu) 
had  depended  upon  the  celerity  of  his  movements. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  493 

"Well,  my  dear,  did  you  find  out  whose  funeral  it  was?" 
asked  Lady  Mammonton. 

"  Yes,  a  Mrs.  Henry's,  or  some  such  name." 

"I  saw  two  carriages  with  ducal  coronets,  relations,  I  sup- 
pose ;  for,  besides  having  scarves,  the  servants  were  also  in 
mourning." 

"  Ah,  very  likely.  I'm  sorry  to  leave  you  to  return  home, 
my  dearest  aunt,"  said  he,  pulling  the  check,  "  but  I've  got  wet 
in  my  feet;  so,  if  you'll  allow  me,  I'll  get  out,  and  walk  to  a 
cab-stand,  as  I  wish  to  get  home  and  change  my  boots,  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,  my  dear,  on  no  account ;  Til  take  you  to 
the  Albany.  Jeemes,"  added  Lady  Mammonton,  when  the  lat- 
ter came  to  the  door  for  orders,  "  to  the  Albany,  and  tell  Beilby 
to  drive  fast." 

Fast,  accordingly,  tliey  drove,  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
brought  them  to  the  Albany,  where  the  old  lady  left  her  nephew 
to  his  pleasant  thoughts,  and  where,  for  the  present,  we  will 
leave  him  also. 


Clje  S^lorlli,  W^t  ikBlj,  m\ii  ^t  i^bil. 


SECTION  XX. 


'  The  God-head  is  a  boundless  sea,  on  which  the  thin  island  of  creation  floats-.'' 

"  Most  noble  spirit, 
To  -whom  all  beauty  and  all  virtuous  love 
Appeared  in  their  native  properties, 
And  did  enrich  that  noble  soul  of  bis 
With  treasures  passing  this  world's  worth- 
Worthy  of  heaven  itself,  which  brought  it  forth." 

/Spencer's  lines  on  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

"  "Woe  unto  you  Pharisees— Hypocrites." 

" Like  one  that  stands  upon  a  promontory, 


And  spies  a  far-oflf  shore  where  he  would  tread, 
"Wishing  his  foot  were  equal  with  his  eye. 
And  chides  the  sea  that  sunders  him  from  thence, 
Saying  he'll  lade  it  dry  to  have  his  way." 

Shakespeare. 

O !  Trumpery  !  0  !  Moses  !  as  my  Lord  Duke  says,  in  "  Higli 
life  below  stairs,"  and  "which,  for  the  present  times,  is  the  very 
best  translation  that  can  possibly  be  of  0/  temporal  0! 
mores  !  We  are  sorry  to  say  it,  but  the  great  Benarabian  He- 
bre-w  point  controversy  by  no  means  progressed  as  its  author 
could  have  desired ;  however,  his  talents,  like  his  principles  (?) 
being  of  that  available,  active,  and  gymnastic  kind,  that  they 
could,  at  a  moment's  notice,  vault  from  one  extreme  to  another; 
he  did  not,  as  a  lesser  genius  might  have  done,  waste  his  time 
in  sighing  over  ruined  arguments  and  mutilated  similes,  but 
■with  one  vigorous  whirl !  he  instantly  turned  off  the  Jordan  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  495 

turned  on  the  Thames  !  (even  with  all  its  impurities)  into  a  sort 
of  political  biography  (query  Bejobrafy?)  for  the  present  gene- 
ration, wherein,  though  richly  gilded,  and  beautifully  carved,  so 
as  to  suit  the  votaries  of  all  political  sects — 

His  principles,  like  tavern  rooms,  bore  token, 
That  to  all  parties  they  were  ever  open. 

For  truly,  he  was  above  all  those  little  qualms  and  scruples 
which  fetter  and  impede  meaner  mortals  ;  like  that  other  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer,  the  versatile  Charles  Townshend,  he  had 
"talents  for  flourishing  away  in  a  speech,  and  for  flattering 
and  misleading  the  House  of  Commons."  Like  him  too,  "  he 
could  write  a  pamphlet  or  betray  a  connection,  and  laugh  at  it. 
He  could  even  mitigate  the  resentments  of  those  he  had  the 
most  highly  ofiended  ;  and  by  a  certain  mixture  of  animal  vi- 
vacity, highly  seasoned  with  wit  and  good  humour,  he  possessed 
the  knack  of  disarming  the  very  persons  he  had  thus  grossly 
betrayed."  In  short,  the  rungs  of  the  ladder  of  life  were  by 
him  ascended  with  a  mixed  dignity  and  defiance,  as  if  they  had 
been  the  steps  of  a  throne,  of  which  he  was  the  autocrat ;  thus 
surveying  the  rest  of  mankind  after  a  King  David  SQrt  of  fash- 
ion (not  the  Sternhold  and  Hopkins  edition),  and  apparently 
always  mentally  asserting  with  that  monarch,  as  he  did  survey 
them — 

"Man-asses!  you  are  mine!" 

While  mob  and  not  Moab,  was  the  utensil  whereby  he  performed 
his  ablutions,  which  might  account  for  his  not  always  having 
poHtically  clean  hands,  notwithstandingthat  no  public  character 
had  ever  made  a  more  liberal  use  of  soft  soap. 

His  clever  friends.  Messieurs  Coakington  and  Ferrars,  with 
the  rest  of  his  political  stud, — he  kept  up, — quite  certain  that 
though  (through  bad  jockeyship,  about  the  weighing,  when 
they  were  all  found  wanting,)  they  had  bolted  at  the  last  spring 
meeting,  he  should  be  sure  to  win  the  next  Derby. 


496  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Now  turn  we  from  these  constellations  to  the  minor  stars  of 
our  hemisphere.  The  reader  will  scarcely  require  to  be  told, 
that  on  her  return  from  poor  Florence's  funeral,  Mrs.  Bousefield 
was  "  that  low,  and  that  nervous,"  that  there  was  nothing  left 
for  her  to  do,  but  to  feint,  without  a  moment's  warning,  into  Joe 
Roberts's  arms,  but  he  may  require  to  know  that  upon  recover- 
ing her  speech,  she  said — 

"  No !  Mr.  Roberts,  I  didn't  think  has  hany  think  could 
hever  tempt  me  to  replace  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield,  but  aving 
seen  so  much  sorrer  and  durmestic  haffliction  lately,  T  should  be 
the  last  puson  to  hinflict  ha  wound  hon  a  faithful  eart ;  there- 
fore I  haccept  your  hoffer,  wishing  hon  you  every  appiness,  his 
my  sincere  wish  ;  hand  of  course  leaving  it  hentirely  hoptional 
with  yourself  what  church  we  shall  be  married  hin, — honly 
hexcepting  the  hold  church  hat  Kensington,  for  that  would  be 
quite  too  much  for  my  nerves  hin  their  present  state." 

And  the  mere  thought  of  such  a  thing,  caused  a  second 
syncope,  of  which  Joe  Roberts  had  again  to  bear  the  brunt; 
while  his  account  of  the  matter  to  his  father,  was  :  "  that  he 
never  was  so  tookt  a  back  !  in  all  his  born  days,  as  ven  the  vidder 
said  she  accepted  what  he  had  never  offered, — namely,  himself 
as  her  husband, — indeed  so  tookt  a  back  was  he  that  it  give 
him  the  stao^o-ers ;  and-  he  did  all  he  could  to  '  make  her  under- 
stand  that  never  having  been  used  to  it,'  he  was  sadly  afeared 
he'd  never  be  able  to  go  in  double  harness;  but  still  she  stuck 
to  the  pint,  and  seemed  to  say  as  she'd  keep  the  whip-hand, 
she^d  see  to  that ;  therefore  you  see  father,"  concluded  Joe, "  as 
I  had  nothink  helse  to  give,  and  the  vidder  seemed  to  have  tookt 
a  fancy  to  me,  I  didn't  think  it  would  be  purlite  to  refuse ;  and 
so  we  was  put  to,  at  St.  Saviour's,  Southwark ;  and  as  I  don't 
care  nothink  about  her,  one  way  nor  tother,  only  that  I  must 
say,  as  she  is  sound  wind  and  limb,  and  free  from  vice,  as  far  as 
I  know, — I  tries  to  draw  as  well  together  as  I  can." 

And  as  late  as  three  months  after  this  important  event,  Mrs. 
Joe  Roberts,  late  Bousefield,  was  heard  to  declare,  one  evening 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  497 

while  taTcing  tea  with  a  female  friend,  and  during  the  fourth  cup, 
and  third  round  of  toast,  while  weeping  over  the  six  original 
"  dear  hinfants,"  "  that  halthoiigh  she  ad  never  oped,  hand  there- 
fore had  never  hattempted  such  a  thing  has  to  make  hanythink 
like  poor  dear  Mr.  Bousefield  !  of  Joe  Roberts,  yet  she  must  say 
he  was  a  very  tidy  sort  of  man,  for  all  that ;  and  a  very  good 
'usban,  worth  one  arf  hof  the  fine  gents  agoing ;  heven  when 
you  come  to  hadd  the  hother  arf  to  it ;  hand  hindeed  Mrs. 
Jagger,  ma'am,"  continued  the  bride,  "  hif  Mr.  Roberts  "  (for 
like  his  predecessor,  she  always  gave  him  his  title)  "  would  honly 
leave  hofF  talking  co/itinually  about  going  out  to  Horse trailyer, 
to  that  poor  boy  Jack,  which  hof  course  means  that  he  his 
thinking  hon  his  first  love,  that  'ere  Fanny  Parker, — I  don't 
mean  to  say  has  I  shouldn't  be  pufectly  'appy,  hunder  e^sisting 
circum5/«/ices ;  but  lawr !  hif  hevry  'ooman  was  to  begin 
counting  hup  their  usban's  fust  loves,  I  don't  believe  they'd 
hever  get  to  the  last  hon  'em — hunless  hindeed  they  w^as  to 
marry  a  baby  in  long  clothes,  and  heven  then,  hit  would  hall 
come  after,  hif  it  had  not  come  afore ;  so  the  honly  way  his, 
Mrs.  Jagger,  to  shut  one's  heyes  to  hall  has  his  past,  hand  keep 
a  sharp  look  hout  for  the  futer ;  though  Mr.  Roberts's  being 
lame  his  one  good  thing  to  prevent  him  running  after  what  he 
'as  no  business  to  run  after — though  has  yet,  I'm  'appy  to  say, 
has  he  happears  fond  of  his  'om^,  hand  his  tea,  hand  his  toast, 
hand  hall  hit  befits  a  married  man  to  be.  Hand  I'm  truly 
thankful  to  say,  Mrs.  Jagger,  since  I'm  no  longer  ahunpurtected 
widder,  druv  here,  hand  poked  there,  hand  subjected  to  the 
himperence  hof  hevry  good-for  nothiuk  feller  ;  my  nerves  is  con- 
siderable better,  hand  I  don't  come  hall  hover  hin  them  dread- 
ful heats  has  I  used  to  do. — Not  a  drop  more,  thank  yow,  Mi-s. 
Jagger,  ma'am,"  concluded  she,  steadily  resisting  the  seduction 
of  a  fifth  cup,  by  turning  her  own  down  in  the  saucer,  and  put- 
ting her  spoon  across  it,  "  I  never  take  much  at  hany  time,  for 
my  disr/estion  his  that  weak,  from  hall  I  have'gone  through  hat 
different  times,  that  hke  my  sperits,  hit  can't  bear  much ;  but 


498  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

the  Almighty  his  very  good,  '  hand  maketh  the  barren  'ooman 
to  keep  'ouse,  hand  be  the  joyful  mother  of  children,'  wherehof 
I  ad  six,  Mi-s.  Jagger  ;  but  that  says  nothink,  hand  enough  his 
has  good  has  a  feast ;  ha'nd  a  contented  mind  his  a  con-tinial 
feast." 

The  Duke  of  Liddesdale  and  his  mother  were  at  Glenfern, 
ready  to  receive  Edith,  Mrs.  Dunbar,  and  the  Archdeacon,  who 
had  now  left  London  to  join  them.  And  when  the  duke  looked 
round  at  the  happiness  and  well-being  he  had  created,  in  all 
directions,  well  might  he  feel  a  glow  of  honest  pride,  at  the  idea 
of  the  delightful  surprise  this  regenerated  village  would  be  to 
Edith.  For  he  had  established  schools,  first :  to  instil  into  the 
rising,  and  even  into  the  adult  generation,  vital  and  practical 
Christianity  ;  and  then  to  teach  them  every  branch  of  useful- 
ness ;  and  not  superficial,  and  at  best  useless  learning  (for  it  is 
not  knowledge)  that  is  now  taught  at  our  Sunday  and  National 
schools.  For  this  purpose  he  had  built  a  large  sort  of  college, 
where  the  children  of  the  poor  were  taught  every  branch  of  do- 
mestic and  household  service,  with  the  option  of  choosing  the 
particular  walk  that  their  own  individual  taste  and  capacity  in- 
dicated ;  whether  it  were  that  of  a  housemaid,  cook,  nursery- 
maid, kitchenmaid,  scuDion,  or  maid-of-all-work ;  while,  in  order 
that  they  might  be  thoroughly  taught,  there  were  first-rate 
cooks,  housekeepers,  hair-dressers,  and  dress-makers  to  teach 
them ;  and  matrons,  twelve  in  number,  to  oversee  the  whole 
establishment!  These  matrons,  being  selected  from  reduced 
gentlewomen,  who  were  glad  of  so  happy  and  peaceful  an  asy- 
lum, with  a  salary  of  $50  a  year  each  ;  and  they  were  purposely 
chosen  from  a  superior  class,  as  real  gentlewomen  are  always 
more  adaptive  than  upstarts,  and  more  rationally  conform  them- 
selves to  circumstances.  One  half  this  building  was  conducted 
with  similar  arrangements  for  boys,  where  they  were  also  taught 
every  branch  of  domestic  servitude,  or  trades,  as  their  ow^n  lik- 
ings might  select.  But  in  both  portions  of  the  establishment, 
the  children,   by  being  taught  to  attend  upon  each  other  when 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  499 

ill,  were  not  only  naade  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  require- 
ments of  invahds  and  the  important  duties  indispensable  for  a 
sick-room  ;  but  they  were  early  taught  the  humanities  of  life, 
which  so  many  require  io  be  taught !  as,  for  one  nature  that  is 
broad  enough,  deep  enough,  and  generous  enough,  to  practise 
them  from  intuition,  there  are  ffty  so  hard,  narrow,  and  selfish, 
that  such  can  only  be  extorted  from  them  by  a  long  course  of 
proper  discipline ;  and  in  the  Glenfern  school,  if  any  child, 
adult,  or  young  person,  neglected  to  wait  upon,  solace,  amuse, 
or  attend  to  the  w^ork  or  wishes  of  a  sick  companion,  they  were 
so  coldly  looked  upon,  and  so  univei-sally  shunned  by  the  rest  of 
the  community,  that  their  lives  became  insupportable  to  them, 
till  they  had  an  opportunity  of  redeeming  their  character 
for  kindness  and  humanity,  on  some  future  occasion.  So  that 
they  not  only  ivished  to  be  useful  to  their  fellow  creatures,  but 
what  is  equally  important,  they  also  learnt  how  to  be  so,  for  in 
such  cases  "  knowledge  is  power." 

A  nephew  of  Mr.  Wilmot's  had  been  inducted  to  the  living 
of  Glenfern  :  Everard  Wilmot  by  name ;  for  the  duke  had  a 
healthy  horror  of  the  Stuckup  Starchington  school,  and  this 
gentleman  was  in  every  respect  its  antipodes  ;  being  a  sincere, 
genuine,  unassuming,  practical  Christian  minister ;  and  there- 
fore, what  every  clergyman  ought  to  be — the  teacher,  counsel- 
lor, and  friend  of  his  flock ;  for  the  doctrine  he  preached  from 
the  pulpit,  he  more  fully  taught  and  illustrated  by  every  act  of 
his  own  life ;  he  had  no  set  routine  days  and  hours  for  visiting 
all  classes,  or  any  class  of  his  parishioners  ;  on  all  days,  at  all 
hours,  he  wjis  accessible  to  them,  when  they  sought  hiin  ;  and 
at  all  times  he  was  with  them,  helping  them  to  bear  their  bur- 
dens, whenever  they  were  heaviest ;  so  that  sometimes  he  might 
be  daily  for  a  month  in  one  house,  and  not  near  another  ;  but 
always  equally  welcome,  when  he  came,  and  equally  trusted 
when  he  did  not  come ;  nor  was  it  only  to  his  mere  parishion- 
ers that  his  Christian  love  extended  ;  all  who  suffered  in  mind, 
body,  or  estate,  were  his  brother,  his  sister,  his   mother,  his 


500  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

child,  and  therefore  his  flock.  There  was  no  stiff,  cold,  standoff 
conventionalism,  for  fear  of  being  thought  intrusive,  for  he  knew 
that  real  kindness  is  never  intrusive,  being  merely  the  holding 
out  of  the  hand  to  the  falling,  or  the  rope  to  the  drowning, 
which,  even  when  not  accepted,  is  always  understood  to  be  what 
it  is — kindly  meant. 

But  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale  also  felt,  what  everybody  who 
thinks  deeply  on  the  subject,  and  investigates  it  analytically 
must  feel — that  the  real  cause  of  the  frightful  increase  of 
drunkenness  and  crime  in  the  United  Kingdom  (notwithstand- 
ing the  eternal  potter  about  education,  progression,  and  reli- 
gious instruction)  is  the  total  absence  of  all  rational  and  instruc- 
tive amusement  and  relaxation  for  the  people ;  who,  however 
poor  and  lowly  in  station,  are  still  human  beings ! — and,  conse- 
quently, have  human  requirements  and  yearnings ;  the  which 
not  being  satisfied — nay  more,  being  totally  neglected,  and 
therefore  undeveloped, — are  struggling  darkly  and  fatally 
through  their  moral  nature,  only  evidenced  by  fitful  gusts  of 
crime  and  intemperance — ^just  as  physical  diseases,  while  strug- 
gling through  the  system,  cause  all  sorts  of  wayward  and  im- 
practicable tempers,  no  cure  for  which  can  be  ever  attempted, 
till  the  latent  evil  is  thrown  out  in  the  form  of  a  tangible  mala- 
dy, when  it  may  then  be  vigorously  and  successfully  treated. 
In  the  present  state  of  things,  the  lower  orders  have  but  two 
places  of  refuge  for  their  leisure  hours — the  conventicle  and  the 
public-house  ;  in  the  former  they  learn  to  be  hypocrites,  and  in 
the  latter  to  be  brutes ;  but,  as  the  Duke  truly  thought,  instead 
of  fining  men  for  being  drunk,  it  would  be  at  once  more  ration- 
al and  more  humane  to  re-fine  them,  so  as  to  prevent  their  get- 
ting drunk — to  humanise  them ;  in  fact,  by  a  constant  social 
and  decorous  intercourse  with  the  other  sex,  for  whom  they 
might  then  acquire  more  tender  and  deferential  feelings  than  to 
murder  and  brutalise  those  who  individuall}^  fall  to  their  lot  as 
chartered  slaves.  And  for  this  purpose  there  was,  in  his  Na- 
tional School,  a  sort  of  club  held  nightly  after  working  hours, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  501 

but  widely  different  to  the  institutions  generally  called  by  that 
name — where  mechanics  amid  the  fumes  of  beer,  brandy,  and 
tobacco,  may  talk  either  twaddle  or  treason  ;  and  where  they 
endeavour  to  redress  grievances  by  hatching  revolts.  For  to 
the  Glenfern  Club  were  admitted  the  female  children  and  vouno; 
women,  as  well  as  the  boys  and  young  men ;  the  former  gen- 
erally bringing  their  needlework,  and  the  latter  any  mechanical 
works  that  they  either  might  be  learning,  or  were  already  skilled 
in  ;  and  while  seated  round  the  long  and  well-lit  table,  (for  the 
lighting  of  which  each  boy  and  girl  subscribed  a  penny,  a  half- 
penny, or  a  farthing  a  week,  according  to  their  means,  and  for 
which  their  parents  were  also  admitted,)  one  of  the  teachers,  or 
the  pupils  themselves,  male  or  female,  when  they  read  well 
enough,  read  out,  either  history,  natural  history,  biography,  or 
travels,  and  occasionally  works  of  fiction,  of  a  moral  and  im- 
proving kind,  which  reading  used  to  last  about  two  hours ; 
when  they  either  danced,  had  an  amateur  concert,  told  amusing 
stories,  or  played  at  little  games,  as  the  majority  should  decide 
upon ;  and,  at  half-past  eight,  a  sermon  and  prayers  concluded 
the  evening,  and  it  was  always  a  source  of  great  rejoicing  when 
Everard  Wilmot  was  there  to  officiate.  Besides  which  they 
had  cricket,  foot-races,  rowing-matches,  diving,  and  all  sorts  of 
athletic  open  air  amusements  for  the  male  portion  of  the  com- 
munity. This  system  was  found  to  work  admirably, — for  the 
most  fractious  child  is  good,  and  the  most  furious  man  tame, 
while  they  are  amused  ;  and  no  child,  or  young  person  of  either 
sex,  could  appear  at  the  evening  club  without  a  certificate  from 
the  matrons,  or  masters,  stating  that  they  had  that  day  dili- 
gently and  intelligently  executed  all  their  various  household 
works — whether  of  gardening,  stabling,  farming,  cooking,  house- 
cleaning,  washing,  ironing,  hair-dressing,  dressmaking,  shoe- 
making,  tailoring,  carpentering,  baking,  brewing,  &c.,  &c.,  &c., 
as  the  case  might  be ;  and  had  also  been  docile  and  obedient 
to  their  teachers,  and  amiable,  obliging,  considerate,  and  for- 
bearing to  their  companions — consequently,  not  only  great  was 


502  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

the  disappointment,  but  also  the  disgrace  of  being  absent  from 
these  evening  amusements.  And  although  this  college  for  the 
religious  and  useful  training  of  domestic  servants,  in  all  ca^^aci- 
ties,  had  only  been  established  three  years,  it  had  turned  out 
some  such  excellent,  and  first-rate  servants,  and  such  exemplary 
membei-s  of  society,  that  its  fame  was  widely  spreading  as  a  real 
practical  blessing  to  the  country :  and  even  had  the  youug  peo- 
ple so  trained  never  got  places,  which  was  not  very  likely,  as 
people  are  always  wanting  servants — they  still  had  such  re- 
sources within  themselves,  and  so  much  practical  every  day 
knowledge  about  those  things  indispensable  to  daily  existence 
and  well-being,  that  they  never  could  be  thrown  upon  the 
world  as  useless  burdens  to  it,  and  helpless  miseries  to  them- 
selves.    And  as  the  broad  foundation  of  their  training  had  been 

to  "Do  THEIR  DUTY  IN  THAT  STATE  OF  LIFE  INTO  WHICH  IT  HAD 

PLEASED  God  to  call  THEM  ; "  their  chief  knowledge  consisted 
in  never  attempting  to  go  beyond  this  state,  but  scrupulously  to 
adorn  it  by  doing  their  duty  in  it ;  for  their  education  had  re- 
fined them  too  much  to  allow  of  their  being  guilty  of  the  vul- 
gar absurdity  of  attempting  to  he  fine.  So  great,  indeed,  had 
become  the  fame  of  the  Glenfern  servants'  college,  that  many  of 
the  small  gentry,  clergy,  and  tradespeople,  sent  their  sons  and 
daughters  there  to  be  usefully  educated ;  but  they  (with  the 
exception  of  the  children  of  the  clergy,  who  were  received  gratis) 
had  to  pay  half  a  crown  a  week  each,  sixpence  a  week  each  to 
the  club ;  and  one  penny  on  each  article  of  dress  that  their  pa- 
rents supplied  them  with. 

Besides  the  school-house  and  club,  there  was  also  a  large 
circular  building  in  an  open  space  or  plain,  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  village ;  and  on  Sunday  evenings,  after  the  afternoon  service 
— for  there  was  no  evening  service  at  Glenfern — to  this  build- 
ing the  whole  of  the  population  repaired,  for  it  was  a  large  am- 
phitheatre containing  a  faithful  and  beautifully  executed  moving 
panorama  of  the  Holy  Land,  with  interludes  of  dioramas  of  all 
the  Miracles  of  our  Saviour,  and  some  of  the  most  striking  inci- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  oOS 

dents  in  Bible  History,  painted  by  the  best  living  Italian  artists. 
A.ided  bv  these  graphic  and  deeply  interesting  representations 
— there  would  Mr.  Wilmot,  every  Sabbath  evening,  lecture  on 
and  expound  with  a  pure  simplicity, — plain  to  the  capacity  of 
his  youngest,  or  least  enlightened  auditor,  yet  eloquent  enough 
to  have  satisfied  the  most  critical, — the  sublimities  of  Gospel 
truth. 

Such  were  the  scenes  to  which  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale  was 
looking  forward  to  introduce  his  bride,  and  such  also  he  meant, 
at  no  distant  period,  to  create  on  his  princely  possessions  at  Lid- 
desdale ;  but  to  him  Glenfern,  as  the  place  of  Edith's  birth,  was 
hallowed  ground — the  blest  Canaan  of  hifi  heart  I — and  there- 
fore, as  we  have  seen,  he  lost  no  time  in  making  it  the  same  to 
others.  For  he  justly  thought,  that  heaven's  wealth  of  happi- 
ness I — or  earth's  wealth  of  gold,  no  mortal  had  a  right  to  keep 
to  themselves,  and  not  share  them  with  their  fellow-creatures. 

^  ik  Hi  H:  %  He 

%  H:  Ht  Hi  Hi  Hi 

And  while  the  Duke  of  Liddesdale  was  thus  employed  in 
promoting  the  happiness  of  others,  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  solita- 
ry and  individual  Utopia  was  also  flourishing  to  his  heart's — 
no,  to  his  head's  content ;  for  Lady  Mammonton,  whether  panic 
stricken  at  the  rencontre  of  the  funeral,  or  from  any  other  more 
natural  cause,  such  as  the  fulness  of  time,  or  the  decay  of  na- 
ture ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  she  one  morning,  more  by  accident 
than  design,  died  suddenly, — for  so  little  had  it  been  her  inten- 
tion to  do  so,  that  she  had  just  ordered  the  carriage  to  call  upon 
Miss  Delazouche,  bring  her  home  to  dinner  wuth  her,  and  take 
her  in  the  evening  to  Mr.  Stuckup  Starchington's  lecture ;  and 
knowing  "  poor  Pam,"  as  she  called  her,  was  not  over-burden- 
ed in  that  way,  she  had  generously  set  aside  two  £o  notes  for 
her,  to  give  to  "The  Aztec  Discoverative,  Recoverative, 
Regenerative  Association."  Thus  delicately  leaving  an  open- 
ing to  the  old  Maid  of  Honor,  to  pocket  one  of  them  if  she  pleased  ! 
When  having  placed  them  on  the  table  with  her  gloves,  she  fell 


604  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

back  in  her  chair  and  expired.  Peace  be  to  her  manes  ! — and 
let  us  charitably  hope,  that  in  summing  up  her  account,  the  re- 
cording angel  will,  at  least,  place  the  small  item  to  her  credit,  that 
her  exit  was  preceded  and  hallowed  by  an  intended  kindness. 

Her  funeral  convoye  down  to  Mammonton  was  as  splendid 
as  her  nephew's  or  her  own  ostentation,  could  possibly  have  de- 
sired :  and  he  had  the  still  further  solace  of  finding  himself  sole 
heir  to  her  large  landed  and  immense  personal  property  ;  only 
mortgaged  with  the  slight  and  rather  pleasing  injunction,  that 
he  was  to  take  the  name,  and  quarter  the  arms  of  Mammonton ; 
so  that  by  "  royal  assent,"  he  became  Mr.  Ferrars  Mammonton, 
and  hved  on,  like  that  other  clever  man,  Cecil  Lord  Burleigh, 
laden  with  wealth,  honours,  and  sin  ! — though  many,  it  is  true, 
said  of  him,  as  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  said  of  Lord  Bo- 
lingbroke — "  I  own  I  have  small  regard  for  him  as  an  author, 
and  the  highest  contempt  for  him  as  a  ma?i."  Yet  life  is  hut 
a  dream  !  say  some  ;  while  Shakspeare  tells  us  that — 

"  Our  little  life  is  rounded  by  a  dream, 
^nd  even  the  most  wicked  sleep  sometimes. 
But  oh !  in  that  sleep,  what  dreams  may  come," 

and  did  come  to  Mr.  Ferrars  Mammonton  on  the  night  of  his 
aunt's  funeral,  which,  of  course,  he  had  gone  down  to  attend ; 
for  upon  the  same  principle  that  we  call  men  who  bring  water 
to  extinguish  a  conflagration,  "  Firemen,"  so  are  all  heirs  the 
chief  mourners  at  funerals !  Mammonton,  in  Leicestershire, 
was  a  fine,  extensive,  unincumbered  property,  with  a  magnifi- 
cently timbered  deer-park,  extending  about  five-and-twenty 
miles  in  a  ring  fence.  The  house  itself  was  an  old  Henry  the 
Seventh  House,  built  round  a  quadrangle,  it  was  kept  up  in 
statu  quo,  and  therefore,  of  course,  had  its  great-hall,  full  of 
armour,  its  music-gallery,  its  banquetting-hall,  ball-room  and 
theatre  ;  its  double  ghosted  hauntingsof  a  monk  and  a  maiden; 
its  picture-gallery,  dungeons,  wainscoated  bed -rooms,  and  bugle 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES,  505 

tapestried  beds  with  aigrettes  of  white  ostrich  feathers  at  each 
corner  on  the  top. 

Mr.  Ferrars  Mammonton,  as 

"  Monarch  of  all  he  surveyed, " 

had,  of  course,  been  considerably  excited  during  the  day,  which 
excitement  had  taken  away  his  appetite,  and  its  absence  made 
an  excellent  substitute  for  grief,  so  that  the  intact  state  of  the 
untouched  dishes  satisfied  the  countiy  servants  that  he  was  do- 
ing his  grief  in  the  most  orthodox  manner  ;  Pumilion,  the  chef, 
and  the  Rev.  Stuckup  Starchington,  being  the  only  sceptics,  as 
they  were  too  much  men  of  the  world,  and,  consequently,  too 
great  humbugs  themselves  not  to  be  able  to  infallibly  test  hum- 
bug in  others.  The  reverend  gentleman  had  made  a  point  of 
attending  his  patroness'  funeral  cortege  a  little  out  of  gratitude, 
and  a  great  deal  out  of  hope — hope  of  striking  while  the  iron 
was  hot — and  getting  the  nephew  to  give  him  what  the  aunt 
had  only  promised  him  in  the  event  of  the  death,  or  resigna- 
tion of  the  then  incumbent ;  namely,  the  hving  of  Mammonton 
worth  about  £700  a-year,  but  she  herself  having  died  first,  and 
it  now  being  in  the  gift  of  her  successor,  to  him.  The  Rev. 
Stuckup  Starchington  accordingly  transferred  his  three  per  cent, 
consols  adulation,  and  that  so  efficiently,  that  before  the  second 
bottle  of  claret  was  rung  for  after  dinner,  Mr.  Ferrars  Mammon- 
ton had  promised  him  the  living,  for  charlatans  are  always  ad- 
dicted to  coalescing  with,  and  employing  charlatans ;  forgetting 
the  sage  warning  contained  in  the  homely  proverb,  that  "  Two 
of  a  trade  can  never  agree,"  but  their  infatuation  in  this  respect 
is  only  one  of  the  many  wise  dispensations  of  Providence,  for  if 
rogues  did  not  sometimes  fall  out,  honest  men  would  never 
come  by  their  own  in  this  world,  of  which  his  Satanic  majesty  ^s 
Lord  of  the  Manor. 

It  so  happened,  that  on  the  night  of  Lady  Mammonton's 
funeral,  there  occurred  one  of  those  terrific  and  devastating 
storms,  such  as  "  the  oldest  inhabitant "  invariably  asserts,  has 
22 


506  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

not  been  known  for  fifty  years — one  of  those  savage  and  san- 
guinary hurricanes  which  cause  wrecks  at  sea,  uprootings  on 
land,  and  destruction  everywdiere — an  elementary  revolution  in 
fact,  which,  like  a  pohtical  one,  sweeps  away  all  existing  institu- 
tions, and  leaves  ruin  and  exhaustion  in  their  stead.  Three  of 
the  most  patriarchal  oaks  in  the  park,  avei-aging  from  a  thou- 
sand to  eleven  hundred  years,  had  been  nprooted  ;  the  old 
house  with  its  almost  Stonehenge  walls,  five  feet  thick,  rocked 
again  ;  unearthly  yellings  and  despairing  shrieks  of  the  con- 
vulsed and  over-strained  winds,  filled  the  air  as  if  the  surplus 
population  of  hell  itself  had  emigrated  to  this  world  in  quest 
of  new  sin  quarries,  as  men  are  outward  bound  in  search  of  the 
GREAT  Sin-root,  Gold  ! 

Sleep!  on  such  a  night  was  out  of  the  question,  unless  for 
some  witch-bred  imp  who  had  been  cradled  in  a  cloud,  and 
rocked  by  the  storm,  as  the  lurid  lightning  flashed  like  a 
demon's  eye,  forkedly  askance  the  glittering  bugle  tapestry  of 
the  state-room,  and  Mr.  Ferrars  Mammonton  tossed  to  and  fro 
in  the  state  bed  (for  of  course  he  slept  in  that,  so  as  to  lose  no 
time  in  inaugurating  himself  into  all  his  honours  !)  and  each 
clap  of  thunder  resQunded  like  an  eternal  anathema  of  the  last 
judgment !  he  sat  up  in  bed  to  listen,  and  covered  liis  face  with 
his  hands,  not  to  see ;  but  there  is  no  hoodwinking  the  soul, 
and  his  saw  terrible  tilings,  that  night !  which  had  all  come 
far  !  far  !  far !  from  its  native  spirit-land,  and  which  could  not, 
like  human  ties,  be  set  aside ;  then  why  did  he  not  greet  them 
more  eagerly  since  they  were  his  fevourite  sins ;  strong  in 
eternal  youth !  and  panoplied  with  wings !  while  angels  have 
but  two,  one  for  heaven,  and  one  for  earth,  but  these  his  progeny 
had  three !  the  past !  the  actual !  and  the  future !  which  are 
ever  Sin's  triple  charter  of  Omnipresence  !  While  they  all 
surrounded  the  bed  with  hideous  mirth  and  fantastic  antics,  the 
hail  came  pounding  down  like  grapeshoton  the  outer  windows, 
till  one  of  them  smashed  with  a  tremendous  crash  !  while  the 
electric  fluid,  unquenched,  began   streaming  in  Hke  a  lake  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  507 

fire,  difFusing  a  suffocatingly  sulphureous  odour ;  and  the  next 
moment  a  stentorian  gust  of  wind  roared,  and  rushed  headlong 
into  the  aperture,  and  burst  open  the  inner  French  window 
which  closed  like  a  door,  at  the  same  time  sweeping  down  the 
heavy  silver-mounted  toilet  glass,  which  broke  into  a  thousand 
fragments ! 

"  Curse !  this  phantom  rabble !  "  cried  Mr.  Ferrars  Mam- 
monton,  desperately  springing  from  the  bed,  and  hghting  a 
lucifer,  relit  his  candle ;  he  breathed  more  freely  in  the  light,  and 
the  phantom  band  appeared  to  vanish  like  fading  shadows, 
amid  the  glancing  darkness  of  the  bead-wrought  tapestry. 
Luckily,  the  hand-candlestick  had  a  glass  shade,  or  the  light 
would  have  been  instantly  extinguished  by  the  gusts  of  wind 
that  were  eddying  through  the  room  ;  and  even  as  it  was,  the 
glass  became  so  splashed  with  wax,  that  it  was  seen  but  very 
sepulchrally  and  faintly  through  it. 

So  placing  the  candlestick  on  the  pillow,  and  sheltering  it 
with  the  heavy  curtain,  he  groped  his  way  to  the  window  that 
had  burst  open,  refastening  it,  and  with  some  difficulty  moving 
a  japan  cabinet  (the  lightest  piece  of  furniture  in  the  room)  up 
against  it,  so  as  to  prevent  its  again  bursting  open ;  as  every 
pane  in  the  outer  window  was  completely  shivered,  he  then 
lowered  and  closed  the  heavy  hangings  of  both  windows,  and 
just  as  he  had  finished  his  laboui-s,  such  a  tremendous  clap  of 
thunder  shook  the  house  to  its  very  centre,  accompanied  by 
such  hissing  rivulets  of  rain  and  blue  sulphureous  lightning,  that 
both  his  spirit  and  his  flesh  quailed  !  and  he  almost  thought, 
while  he  exclaimed  with  Marlowe's  Faustus — 

Faust : — Oh,  Ferrars ! 

Now  hast  thou  but  one  bare  hour  to  five, 
And  then  thou  must  be  damn'd  perpetually. 
Stand  still,  you  ever-moving  spheres  of  heaven ! 
That  time  may  cease,  and  midniglit  never  come. 
Fair  nature's  eye,  rise !  rise  again,  and  make 
Perpetual  day;  or  let  this  hour  bo  but  a  year, 


608  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

A  month,  a  week,  a  natural  day ; 

The  Ferrars  may  repent,  and  save  his  soul. 

0  lente  !  lente  !  currite  noctis  equi. 

The  stars  move  still,  time  runs,  the  clock  will  strike, 

The  devil  will  come,  and  Faustus  must  be  damn'd ! 

Oh  !  I'll  leap  up  to  heaven!  who  pulls  me  down  ? 

******* 

And  as  lie  repeated  this  last  line,  he  looked  round  with  a  sort 
of  defiance  upon  the  "  darkness  visible,"  while  the  big  drops 
nevertheless  rolled  from  his  forehead  ;  but  as  he  gasped  for 
breath,  there  was  also  a  momentary,  and,  as  it  were,  sympa- 
thetic hush  in  the  warring  elements,  and  the  thunder  rolled 
back  with  dull  deep  echoings,  as  of  muttered  curses,  threatened 
for  the  future.  He  staggered  back  to  the  bed,  and  taking  up 
the  light,  which  since  the  curtains  had  been  lowered,  he  could 
now  carry  without  its  being  extinguished,  he  walked  to  the 
toilet  table,  and  there,  amid  the  debris  of  broken  glass,  and 
overturned  and  commingling  essences,  he  groped  for,  and 
found,  what  he  never  stirred  without,  namely — a  small  gold 
toilet  box,  full  of  Indian  hemp  tablets,  of  which  he  now  took 
one  more  than  his  usual  dose,  and  as  he  did  so  exclaimed — 
"  There !  the  devil's  in  it,  if  that  don't  make  me  sleep  ! " 
And  with  this  not  particularly  pious  adjuration,  he  returned 
to  bed  and  put  out  the  light ;  nor  had  he  reckoned  without  his 
host,  for  in  less  than  half  an  hour  he  was  in  a  profound  sleep. 
At  first,  this  Paradisiacal  narcotic,  true  to  its  mission,  brought 
him  the  most  enchanting  dreams  :  no  fabled  Elysium  ever  ex- 
ceeded the  delights  through  which  he  wandered  ;  but  happiness, 
even  in  a  dream,  is  never  woven  of  a  lasting  texture ;  and  now, 
all  golden  though  it  was,  the  flimsy  tissue  soon  tore,  and  hung 
in  jagged  and  blackened  fragments  round  the  chambers  of  his 
imagination ;  and  then  the  scene  changed  altogether ;  it  was  no 
longer  bright  fields  of  Asphodel,  and  Paphian  bowers,  with — 

"  Flights  of  gay  young  loves  ;  " 
some  of  which — 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  509 

"  Had  just  left  their  silvery  shell, 
AYhilst  others  Tvere  full  in  feather ;  " 

witli  here,  a  white-footed  Hebe,  wreathed  with  "  Hyacinthine 
locks ; "  and  there,  a  blue-eyed  nymph,  the  glories  of  whose 
radiant  hair,  fell  in  showers  of  crinkling  gold  over  her  snowy 
shoulders,  while  every  breath  that  stirred  the  flowers,  turned 
their  leaves  to  music's  softest  harmonies  ;  but  it  was  a  wild  sea 
shore,  lashed  by  yet  wilder  waves,  and  circled  with  a  zone  of 
black  gigantic  rocks,  against  which,  strange  shadowy-looking 
sea  birds  flapped,  and  broke  their  wings,  like  lost  departed 
souls,  vainly  trying,  amid  outer  darkness,  to  find  an  entrance 
into  heaven ;  till  at  last,  spent  with  their  fruitless  efforts,  they 
fell  into  the  foaming  sea  beneath  ;  then  again  the  w^inds  were 
hushed,  the  moon  rose  up  with  gentle  majesty,  bright  and  clear 
amid  her  royal  robings  of  white  clouds  ;  the  rough  sea  calmed 
down  into  a  silver  mirror,  for  night  to  dress  by,  and  see  how 
most  becomingly  to  place  her  coronet  of  stars  ;  and  far !  far  I 
far !  across  this  silver  sea,  sailed  a  gallant  ship  !  with  all  her 
sails  spread,  her  decks  silent  and  deserted  ;  all  things  in  heaven 
and  earth  seemed  sleeping,  she  alone — 

"  "Walked  the  waters  like  a  thing  of  life ; " 

and  as  she  did  so,  the  portal  of  a  light  cloud  turned  on  its  starry 
hinges,  and  from  it  issued  a  female  form,  dressed  in  a  white, 
filmy  vapour,  and  pressing  a  shadowy  infant  to  its  heart.  A 
passing  moonbeam  put  aside  the  veil  of  aether  from  the  face  ; 
and  when  the  dreaming  m.an  beheld  the  fair,  well-known  fea- 
tures, now  radiant  with  the  light  of  immortality  !  his  strugghng 
spirit  burst  its  fetters — and,  shrieking  "  Florence  ! "  with  out- 
stretched arms,  strode,  as  though  each  foot  had  been  a  century  ! 
over  that  boundless  sea,  to  reach  her  ;  but  the  faster  he  pursued, 
the  faster  she  ran  from  him.  "  The  ship  !  the  ship  ! " — he 
hailed  it,  he  plunged,  he  swam,  he  buffeted  the  now  rising 
waves,  but  all  in  vain  ;  and  just  as  he  was  nearly  spent,  one 


510  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

great  billow  came,  and  threw  him  within  arm's  length  of  Flo- 
rence. He  had  almost  touched  the  border  of  the  misty  shroud 
in  which  she  was  enveloped,  when  she  repelled  him,  by  strew- 
ing a  quantity  of  large  white  lihes  over  the  waves  :  he  tried  to 
grasp  one ;  it  turned  to  a  dark,  hissing  asp,  and  coiled  itself 
round  his  arm,  which  fell  powerless  and  paralysed  beside  him ! 
When  he  looked  again  the  vision  had  disappeared,  and  with  it 
the  brightness  had  faded  from  the  face  of  the  waters.  All  was 
dark,  black  as  Erebus  ! — and,  suddenly  the  waves  heaved  in 
convulsive  throes,  as  if  the  sea  had  been  riven  from  its  founda- 
tions by  an  earthquake,  and  was  in  labour  of  all  its  dead ! 
"  The  ship  !  the  ship  !  Oh,  could  he  only  reach  the  ship !  Ha  ! 
what  was  that  ?  The  minute-gun,  re-echoed  as  if  by  a  thou- 
sand cannon  from  the  writhing  deep — but  the  ship  !  the  ship  ! 
where  was  that  ?  There,  there,  there  are  the  dead  lights  !  She 
must  be  there  !  One  effort  more — another  stroke,  but  it  was 
with  his  left  arm,  the  asp  still  grasped  and  crippled  the  right. 
"  Oh,  for  but  one  ray  of  light  I  but  one,  only  one  ray  ! "  Tush  ! 
the  fiend  is  mighty  !  and  does  things  more  grandly  !  You  want- 
ed light,  look  there — the  ship  !  the  ship !  the  convict  ship  !  was 
on  fire  !  The  boats  were  lowered;  the  women  and  children,  amid 
shrieks  and  nakedness,  were  huddled  into  them  ;  while  the  sail- 
ors, reckless  of  life,  with  such  a  choice  of  deaths,  ran  up  the  lad- 
ders, determined  to  do  all  that  men  could  do,  though  the  burning 
spars  and  brands  were  flying  in  all  directions  over  the  tracery  and 
rigging. 

"  Reef  the  main-topsail  and  haul  down  the  Union  Jack !  " 
shouted  the  captain.  "  No,  don't,"  said  a  small  voice,  "  he'll  die 
at  his  post,  and  better  so,  than  fill  a  felon's  grave  ! "  and  the 
boy  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words,  before  the  mizenmast 
fell  with  a  terrible  crash  !  crushing  several  men  to  death  ;  and 
next  followed  the  burning  foremast  and  mainmast.  The  flames 
now  spread  so  rapidly,  that  any  attempt  to  scuttle  the  ship  was 
found  to  be  impossible.  She  was  in  ballast  and  without  cargo, 
except  some  bales  of  cotton,  which  burning  mass  now  sent  forth 
a  dense-clearing  smoke  from  her  timbers,  and  then  a  column  of 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  oll 

bright  flame,  and  soon  after,  all  her  bulwarks  were  burnt  away 
from  her  fore-and-aft  quarters  ;  her  jib-boom,  with  its  ropes, 
stood  out  against  the  devouring  element  the  longest — but  the 
vessel,  careening  in  a  sudden  gale,  they  at  length  also  crumbled 
into  the  hold,  leaving  nothing  when  morning  dawned  but  her 
charred  hull,  from  which  floated  a  boy's  neckerchief,  marked 
"  U.  J.;" — and  her  bare  and  naked  stancheons  ranging  on 
either  side  aft. 

The  dreaming  man  heaved  and  tossed  more  even  than  the 
lashing,  foaming  waves  !  the  fire  within  him  raged,  if  possible, 
more  fiercely  than  it  had  done  in  the  burning  ship,  and  seemed 
to  torture,  in  his  single  heing^  as  many  lives,  without,  alas  ! 
annihilating  them  ;  for  what  can  annihilate  the  vitality  of  con- 
science ?  He  turned,  despairingly,  from  the  charred  and  black- 
ened ship,  burnt  down  to  the  water's  edge — but  whichever  way 
he  turned,  the  thin  torn  kerchief,  marked  ''U.  J."  flitted  before 
his  eyes,  and  shut  out  all  other  objects.  "  Oh  !  is  there  no  escape 
from  this  ?  "  cried  he,  in  a  burst  of  frantic  agony — "  Yes,  down, 
down  five  thousand  fathoms  deep  with  me ! " — moaned  a  voice 
through  an  approaching  wave — and  when  he  looked  up  he 
beheld  a  pale,  unearthly  face  of  white  sea  foam,  and  long,  dark, 
damp  hair  like  sea  moss,  such  as  Alciphron  mentions  the  Greek 
islanders  having  had.  There  was  a  great  majesty  on  the  brow 
(for  King  Death  !  had  circled  it  with  his  own  eternal  diadem  ! ) 
but  the  face  was  appalling,  for  it  was  that  of  Adelaida  !  He 
pushed  back  the  the  phantom  with  his  only  available  arm,  but 
the  waves  simulating  her  image,  rolled  forward  and  engulfed 
him  !  In  vain  he  struggled  against  its  encompassing  and  suflTo- 
cating  embraces.  One  effort  more  !  it  was  his  last  breath — and 
he  awoke  with  a  fearful  shriek  ! 

%  ^:  *  -^  * 

Clarke  was  standing  by  his  bedside,  announcing  that  it 
wanted  a  quarter  to  two,  p.m. ;  and,  with  Mr.  Stuckup  Starch- 
ington's  compliments,  to  know  how  he  had  passed  the  night  ? 

"  One  of  the  hawfullest  nights  I  think  I  hever  saw  or  heard, 
sir,"  added  Clarke,  on  his  own  account. 


512  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

"  Awful,  indeed  ! "  responded  his  master,  as  the  valet  helped 
to  induct  him  into  his  violet  velvet  dressing-gown. 

For  in  truth  Mr.  Ferrars  Mammonton  had  passed  one  of 
those  fearfully  devastating  and  eventful  nights,  wherein  dark 
Nemesis  !  Fate's  stern  steward,  audits  all  accounts  ;  and  Con- 
science, the  inexorable !  calls  in  her  usurious  mortgage  upon 
the  bankrupt  soul !  till  guilt,  in  its  trembling  eagerness  to  re- 
new the  bond,  and  stave  off  the  fearful  reckoning  from  the  pre- 
sent to  the  future,  seizes  in  its  trepidation  the  leaden  Seal  of 
Time  !  and  stamps  upon  a  few  brief  hours,  the  deep-intended 
impress  of  long  years  ! 

Even  Mr.  Stuckup  Starchington's  scepticism  was  shaken. 
Had  he  not  witnessed  the  terrible  ravages  grief  had  made,  he 
could  not  have  believed  that  Mr.  Ferrars  Mammonton  would 
have  taken  his  aunt's  death  so  terribly  to  heart !  At  all  events, 
the  clever  man  took  the  hint,  and  forthwith  the  London  and 
provincial  papers  teemed  with  touching  little  paragraphs  of  Mr. 
Ferrare  Mammonton's  intense  grief  I  and  the  injuiry  his  health 
had  sustained  from  it !  and  the  consequent  loss  society  might 
sustain  from  the  temporary  absence  of  one  of  its  most  distin- 
guished ornaments !  But  as  every  cloud  hath  its  silver  hning, 
so  verily  hath  every  dream  its  real  side  in  some  niche  or  other 
of  time  or  space.  And,  as  soon  as  the  intelligence  could  reach, 
the  news  arrived  that  on  the  high  seas,  the  night  of  the  dread- 
ful storm  at  Mammonton,  in  the  convict  ship  "  Catchemalive," 
Captain  Swivel,  burden  300  tons,  a  fire  had  broken  out,  in 
which  (with  the  exception  of  two  boat-loads  of  women  and  chil- 
dren, picked  up  by  a  French  corvette  towards  noon  the  next 
day,)  every  soul  on  board  had  perished. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Oh  1  Nemesis, — and  hast  thou,  then,  no  evener-handed  jus- 
tice for  our  world  than  the  destruction  of  the  innocent,  and  the 
triumphs  for  the  guilty,  or  for  thy  severest  lash  the  feverish  ter- 
rors of  a  dream  ? 

Patience  !  none, — till  the  dream  is  ended  ! 
"  But  THE  End  is  not  Yet  I  " 


C0itchimoiu 

'  Thou  art  my  hope  in  the  day  of  evil." 


Jer.  xvii.  IT. 


*'  By  all  tby  dower  of  lights  and  fires ; 
By  all  the  eagle  in  thee,  all  the  dove; 
By  all  thy  lives  and  deaths  of  love ; 
By  thy  large  draughts  of  intellectual  day, 
And  by  thy  thirst  of  love,  more  large  than  they; 

*  *  *  * 

*  *  *  * 
By  the  full  kingdom  of  that  final  kiss, 

That  seal'd  thy  parting  soul,  and  made  it  his; 

By  all  the  heavens  thou  hast  in  him ; 

Fair  Sister  of  the  Seraphim  ; 

By  all  of  Him  we  have  in  thee, — 

Leave  nothing  of  myself  in  me; 

Let  me  so  read  thy  life  that  I 

Unto  all  life  of  mine  may  die." 

Richard  Crashaw  to  St,  Theresa  of  Spain. 

It  was  a  glorious  evening  in  July,  and  the  happy  village  of 
Glenfern  was  bathed  in  the  soft  gold  and  purple  haze  of  a  sum- 
mer sunset.  Edith  and  Mrs.  Dunbar  had  returned  that  morning, 
all  the  villagers  were  in  their  holiday  gear  to  receive  them, 
triumphal  arches  of  evergreens  had  been  erected  for  three  miles 
on  the  road,  distant  from  Glenfern,  with  "Welcome  Home  !" 
in  large  letters  of  the  brightest  flowers.  They  had,  it  is  true, 
put  a  great  many  other  mottoes  and  devices ;  but  the  Duke, 
with  his  usual  good  taste,  that  most  perfect  of  all  taste,  the  taste 
of  good  feeling,  had  requested  that  this  brief,  sincere,  and  cor- 
dial welcome  should  be  the  only  one ;  for  did  not  a  home,  to 
22* 


514  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

which  a  thousand  true  hearts  bade  one  welcome,  comprise 
everything  ?  Of  course,  the  horses  was  taken  off,  and  the  car- 
riage was  drawn  by  the  whole  population  up  to  the  house.  At 
the  head  of  this  happy  band  walked  the  Duke  himself,  accom- 
panied by  Alciphron  Murray,  Everard  Wilmot,  and  Jacob  Jacobs, 
who  had  been  especially  invited  to  the  bridal,  that  he  might 
see  how  well  his  noble-minded  present  graced  the  little  church. 
As  soon  as  the  carriage  was  stopped  by  the  concourse  of  people, 
their  joyous  voices  tesselated  the  air  with  blessings  and  wel- 
comes, which  Edith  returned  with  one  fervent  "  God  bless  you 
all !  "  And  then,  bursting  into  tears,  regardless  of  the  assem- 
bled hundreds,  threw  herself  into  the  Duke's  arms,  and,  through 
her  teai-s,  sobbed  out — "  Oh,  Harold  !  can  I  ever,  ever  tell  yon 
how  much  I  love  you?"  Then  everything  swam  before  her; 
her  light  weight  became  heavy  ;  she  had  fainted ;  the  people 
ceased  their  acclamations,  and  the  Duke  told  them  to  draw  the 
carriage  as  rapidly  as  they  could  on  to  the  house. 

"  She  is  over-fatigued,"  said  the  Archdeacon ;  "  we  travelled 
too  fast ;  but  she  was  naturally  so  anxious  to  get  on." 

"  Hoot,  Sammy  Panmuir  1  she's  ower  happy,  puir  bairn," 
said  Mrs.  Dunbar ;  "  and  I  ken,  by  my  aine,  w^hen  a  heart's  been 
darkened  and  blinded  wi'  sorrow  sae  lang,  it  can  nae  bear  sic  a 
great  glare  o*  happiness  all  at  aince." 

And  the  old  lady,  as  she  rapturously  inhaled  the  perfume  of 
her  native  heather,  spoke  as  broad  Scotch  as  she  could,  as  a 
sort  of  jubilee  to  celebrate  the  happy  event. 

"  Oh  !  why,  why,"  said  the  Duke,  in  an  agony,  "  did  you 
let  her  travel  so  fast  ?  I  am  afraid  she  is  really  seriously  ill, 
there  is  such  a  dark  violet  shadow  round  her  eyes.  I  would 
have  waited  any  length  of  time  rather  than  this." 

"  I  assure  your  Grace  it  will  be  nothing ;  a  few  hours'  rest, 
you'll  see,  will  quite  restore  her,"  said  the  Archdeacon. 

But  the  Duke  saw  nothing  but  Edith's  pale,  unanswering 
face,  and  heard  nothing  but  that  she  did  not  breathe.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  house,  the  Duchess  was  at  the  gate  to  wel- 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  515 

come  them  ;  and,  luckily,  Dr.  Scott,  the  Duke's  family  physi- 
cian, was  with  her. 

"  Here,  Scott,  quick,  for  Heaven's  sake !  feel  her  pulse — that 
is,  try  and  do  so,  for  I  can  feel  none." 

"  Your  Grace  must  not  agitate  yourself,"  rejoined  the  phy- 
sician, feeling  Edith's  pulse.  "  Miss  Panmuir  has  only  fainted  ; 
we  must  get  her  to  bed,  and  for  a  few  hours  keep  her  as  quiet 
as  possible ;  the  over-fatigue  and  over-excitement  have  been  too 
much  for  her." 

"  Ah  !  that's  just  what  I  told  the  Duke,"  said  Samuel  Pan- 
muir, with  his  usual  pomposity,  endorsing  the  doctor's  opinion 
in  return  for  his  having  done  the  same  by  him. 

The  Duke,  who  would  not  trust  his  precious  burden  to  any- 
body else,  gently  descended  from  the  carriage,  and  carried  Edith 
up  to  her  own  room. 

"  Oh,  mother  !  mother  !  don't  you  deceive  me,  too^"*  said  he, 
as  he  gently  laid  Edith  on  the  bed ;  "  but  tell  me  if  you  don't 
think  this  is  something  more  than  a  mere  fainting  fit." 

"  My  dearest  love,"  said  his  mother,  wiping  her  streaming 
eyes,  "how  can  I  tell  you  till  she  comes  to  herself;  which, 
please  God,  she  will  do  soon.  And  now,  my  dear  Liddesdale, 
go  down  stairs,  Mina  and  I  will  get  her  into  bed  ;  and  then  you 
shall  come  up  again  and  sit  and  watch  beside  her,  for  I  know 
you  would  not  trust  even  me  to  nurse  her." 

"  I'll  go  into  the  dressing-room,"  said  the  Duke,  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  "  and  then  I  shall  hear  the  moment  you  call  me." 

While  this  brief  dialogue  was  passing  between  the  mother 
and  son,  poor  Mrs.  Dunbar  was  running  all  over  the  house, 
more  like  a  little  madcap  of  a  child  than  a  steady  old  lady  of 
eighty-one  ;  kissing  all  the  doors  and  curtains  ;  and  she  would 
have  kissed  the  floors  also,  only  she  could  no  longer  stoop,  even 
to  conquer.  Then  she  kissed  all  the  old  familiar  faces  of  the 
maids,  and  actually  shook  hands  with  old  Anderson,  and  then 
she  said  she  must  gang  and  see  the  bairns  in  the  nursery  ;  but, 
finding  herself  tired  at  the  first  landing,  she  called  out  in  a  shrill 


516  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

treble, — "Mary,  Malcolm,  why  dinna  ye  come  doon?"  These 
were  her  own  children,  buried  some  twenty  years.  Then  she 
shook  her  head  and  said,  "  Eh  !  I  forgot ;  its  Donald  and  Edith, 
I  mean.  But  mind,  Donald,  that  you  dinna  bring  Kelpie,  for 
the  beastie  just  drives  me  clean  daft ;  there's  nae  sic  a  spoilt 
doggie  in  a'  the  three  kingdoms ;  its  a'ways  the  best  goon  a 
body  has  that  he  must  get  his  teeth  in."  And  so  the  poor  old 
lady  kept  running  back  into  the  nooks  and  corners  of  the  past 
all  the  day. 

While  these  events  were  passing  at  the  Moated  House,  "  The 
Panmuir  Arms  "  was  not  without  its  share  of  excitement.  Amy 
Verner  hei-self  said,  she  did  not  care  "  hoo  soon  she  went  noo  ; 
that  she  had  seen  Miss  Edith's  blessed  face  aince  mair,  and 
Murray's  too,  for  that  matter, — and  that  Christian  Jew's,"  as 
she  called  Jacobs.  "  And  as  for  the  Duke,"  added  she,  "  ye 
maun  jist  look  oot,  Sammy  Panmuir  ;  for  gin  the  Papists  will 
ainly  make  a  saint  of  him^  I'll  turn  Roman  mysel'  and  worship 
him,  under  yer  Reverence's  ain  maist  orthodox  nose ;  though 
gin  the  De'il  war  but  a  rich  duke,  I  dinna  doot  but  ye'd  mak' 
forty  Articles  of  the  Thirty-Nine,  in  order  to  cram  him  into 
your  creed  somehow." 

At  which  the  weird  triumvirate,  who  were  her  auditors,  ut- 
tered a  hoarse  chuckle  ;  and  then  began  bantering  Meggie 
Armstrong,  who  was  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  upon  a  low  has- 
sock, with  about  three  inches  of  an  old  clay  pipe  in  the  corner 
of  her  mouth. 

"  Aweel,  Meggie,"  said  the  two  other  crones,  nearly  in  the 
same  breath ;  "  ye  see  what  false  loons  yer  kelpies  *  of  the 
maist  eldritch  kind  war,  to  shriek  round  ye,  and  fash  ye  wi'  sic 
dismal  tales  aboot  the  leddie  !  wha  has  come  back,  safe  and 
weel,  and  '11  be  a  bonnie  bride  on  Saturday." 

*  The  Scotch  kelpie,  or  water-sprite,  enacts  the  same  part,  as  death's 
herald,  by  his  shrieks,  as  does  the  Irish  banshee,  or  fairie's  wife,  the 
English  bogie,  or  what  in  Wales  are  called  Corpse  Candles ;— that  is, 
its  howling  is  considered  by  the  natives  as  an  infallible  forerunner  of 
death.     See  Pennant. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  51*7 

But  Meggie  only  rocked  herself  the  more,  as  she  muttered — 
"  I  canna'  help  it !  I  canna'  help  it !  and  I'm  sweer  *  to  own  it ; 
but— 

I  heard  it  in  the  river, 

I  saw  it  ill  the  cloud! 

They  brought  a  wreath  to  give  her, 

And  it  turned  to  a  shroud ! 

"  Eh  !  and  the  broken  nest,  and  the  black  crape  Hmbers  hang- 
ing to  it,  and  the  uprooted  tree, — the  young  tree  !  sae  winsome, 
green,  and  bonnie,  that  a'  came  to  the  leddie  hersel'  when  the 
young  Laird  deed.  Dinna  ye  remember,  Mistress  Verner  ? " 
added  she,  with  an  inquisitorial  look,  removing  her  pipe  from 
her  mouth. 

"  Na,  I  dinna  remember,"  said  Amy,  sharply  ;  "  and  I  must 
just  beg  that,  on  the  eve  of  a  bridal^-and  sic  a  bridal ! — ye'U 
nae  be  raking  up  your  wraiths  and  kelpies,  Meggie  Armstrong, 
to  make  the  marriage  lights  burn  blue.  Though,  thank  gude- 
ness !  the  wedding  will  be  in  bright  noonday,  in  the  little  kirk ; 
and  nane  of  your  fine  heathenish  doings  in  the  gloaming  by 
wax  tapers,  in  a  drawing-room,  when  if  it  war  nae  for  the  heart- 
aches that  come  after,  a  bady  wad  niver  ken  whather  they  were 
married  or  nae.  Sae  just  plunge  yer  kelpies  back  into  the  river, 
send  yer  wraiths  a  rambling  in  the  kirk-yard,  and  gi'e  your 
witch's  memory  a  holiday  for  aince,  Meggie." 

And  thus  silenced,  Meggie  sat  and  thought  the  more. 

Everybody  who  has  seen,  or  who  knows  anything  of  that 
fatal  malady,  the  scarlet  fever,  knows  how  subtle,  treacherous, 
and  lingering  its  infection  often  is  :  sometimes  not  breaking  out 
for  one,  two,  and  even  three  months  after  all  danger  is  supposed 
to  be  safely  past. 

And  although  it  was  now  six  weeks  since  Edith  had  taken 
poor  Florence's  infected  baby  in  her  arms,  it  was  only  now — 
driven  from  its  stronghold,  as  it  were,  by  unusual  excitement 

*  Loath. 


518  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

and  fatigue — that  the  disease  manifested  itself  in  her;  and 
when  she  had  recovered  from  her  swoon,  which  she  did  in  about 
half  an  hour  after  they  had  got  her  into  bed,  Dr.  Scott,  with  in- 
finite consternation  and  regret,  announced  that  it  was  the  scar- 
let fever  she  had. 

"  Oh  !  for  Heaven's  sake  !  "  said  she,  turning  her  heavy  eyes 
on  the  Duchess  and  her  son,  who  were  sitting  beside  her  bed. 
"  Do^  do  leave  the  room  instantly ;  I  shall  be  much  more  ill  if 
you  stay." 

"  Go,  mother,"  said  the  Duke,  seeing  that  she  did  not  move. 
"  Go,"  repeated  he,  with  a  meaning  and  imploring  look.  "And 
I'll  come  presently.  You  also,"  added  he,  to  Dr.  Scott  and 
Mina. 

"  Oh !  you  go  too,  Harold.  More  than  all,  you  must  not 
stay  here,"  cried  Edith,  darting  to  the  farthest  side  of  the  bed, 
and  holding  out  both  her  hands,  so  as  to  keep  him  at  arm's 
length. 

"  Edith  !  "  said  he,  calmly,  but  with  a  sort  of  solemn  deter- 
mination that  made  her  pause  and  listen  to  him, — "  I  do  not 
even  ask  your  consent;  but  here  I  swear  that  no  earthly  power 
shall  force  me  from  your  bed-side — not  even  your  commands. 
If  there  is  infection,  if  there  is  danger  for  you,  I  will  share  it ; 
but  I  can  quite  enter  into  your  scruples  in  one  way,  though  I 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  them  in  another  ;  and  it  is  more  meet  that 
your  husband  should  nurse  you  than  only  your  lover,  though 
were  I  your  husband  for  a  thousand  years  !  I  should  still  be 
your  lover.  Let  me  then,  my  own  dear,  dear  love,  this  very 
hour  become  the  former  !  " 

"  How  can  I  be  so  selfish  ?  "  said  Edith,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands,  "yet  I  own  it  would  make  me  so  happy  !  for  if 
I  am  only  to  suffer,  I  feel  I  could  suffer  with  more  courage  as 
your  wife  ;  and  if  I  am  to  die — Oh,  Harold ! — I  feel  that  as  the 
wife  of  one  so  good !  so  pure !  so  noble  !  as  you  are,  I  should  be 
entitled  to  a  better  place  even  in  heaven  ?  But  then,  to  let  you 
breathe  this  infected  air — no,  no — it  is  too,  too  horribly  self- 
ish!" 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  519 

"  The  more  of  self,  when  the  self  is  you  ? "  cried  he,  press- 
ing her  fondly  in  his  arms,  and  despite  her  struggles  kissing  her 
burning  lips,  "  the  more  I  shall  love  it.  But  as  for  infection, 
my  dearest  love,  that  is  nonsense,  for  if  there  is  any  danger  of 
it,  the  risk  has  been  already  ran,  and  the  danger  incurred.  And 
now  I'll  send  for  Wilmot  immediately  ;  for  I  suppose  you  have 
no  particular  fancy  for  the  Archdeacon?  " 

"  Oh  !  pray  don't  let  your  mother  come  in  again,"  said  Edith, 
as  the  Duke,  having  rang  the  bell,  walked  to  the  door  to  send 
for  Mr.  Wilmot,. to  whom  he  wrote  a  hasty  line  telling  him  why 
he  required  his  immediate  presence,  and  to  bring  the  clerk  and 
the  parish  register  with  him.  The  Duchess  Avas  not  a  person  to 
raise  frivolous  objections  to  anybody's  wishes,  when  those  wishes 
were  not  in  themselves  wrong,  more  especially  the  wishes  of  her 
much-loved  son  ;  so  although  the  tears  overflowed  her  eyes,  she 
made  not  the  slightest  demur  to  this  hurried  marriage,  but  as  to 
being  kept  out  of  the  room,  that  she  would  not  submit  to,  but 
used  the  same  arguments  as  her  son  had  done.  As  for  the 
Archdeacon,  it  was  agreed  on  all  sides  that  it  would  be  a  pity 
to  disturb  him  from  his  wine,  for  so  unostentatious  and  almost 
unorthodox  an  affair ;  and  as  for  Mrs.  Dunbar,  the  poor  old  lady 
having  trotted  herself  tired,  and  being  then  fast  asleep  in  her 
armchair,  every  one  thought  it  would  be  a  pity  to  awake  her. 
But  Murray  was  called  out  of  the  dining-room.  So  that  by  the 
time  Everard  Wilmot  and  the  clerk  arrived,  he,  the  Duchess, 
Dr.  Scott,  and  Mina,  were  there  as  witnesses  to  the  marriage ; 
Murray  giving  the  bride  away.  Every  one  made  a  desperate 
efibrt  to  suppress  their  tears,  and  succeeded,  till  Mr.  Wilmot 
came  to  that  part  of  the  ceremony  where  he  had  to  ask — 

"  Wilt  thou  have  this  woman  to  thy  wedded  wife,  to  live 
together  after  God's  ordinance  in  the  holy  estate  of  matrimony  ? 
Wilt  thou  love  her,  comfort  her,  honour,  and  keep  her  in  sick- 
ness and  in  health ;  and  forsaking  all  others,  keep  thee  only 
unto  her  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live  ?  " 

At  the  words  "  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live,"  despite  all  his 


520  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

elForts,  the  young  clergyman's  voice  trembled  slightly,  and  then 
the  tears,  which  had  only  before  trembled  in  the  eyes  of  the 
assistants,  now  rolled  down  their  cheeks,  and  were  by  no  means 
checked  when  the  weak  voice  of  the  bride,  in  trying  to  be  ener- 
getic in  promising  to  love  her  husband  "  till  death  did  them 
part,^''  only  became  fainter.  At  length  the  ceremony  was  con- 
cluded ;  the  last  name  was  signed  in  the  book  ;  and  every  one 
noiselessly  but  simultaneously  left  the  room. 

"  Mine  !  mine  !  for  ever  !  "  said  the  husband,  clasping  his 
wife  in  his  arms,  and  sealing  every  word  with  a  passionate  kiss. 

"  Till  death  do  us  part,  dear,  dear  Harold !  "  murmured 
Edith,  as  her  head  sank  on  his  shoulder — "  but  no,  even  death 
cannot  part  us  now,  for  I  feel  were  I  to  die  this  minute,  it  would 
be  your  soul  I  should  take  with  me  and  leave  you  mine  till  it 
was  fit  to  go,  and  then  you  will  bring  it  to  me  ;  won't  you,  love? 
and  in  heaven  as  on  earth  the  two  will  be  but  one.  Oh  !  Har- 
old, I  am  too  happy  !  it  seems  as  if  such  happiness  was  stolen 
from  heaven,  and  therefore  may  not  be  enjoyed  on  earth,  but 
must  be  returned  to  the  pure  sphere  from  whence  it  came  be- 
fore it  gets  sullied  with  humanity." 

"  Which  it  never  can  be,  darling  !  while  it  is  in  an  angel's 
keeping ;  but  I  am  forgetting  Scott's  orders,  that  you  are  not  to 
talk." 

'•  Then  I  won't ;  only  let  me  look  into  your  eyes  while  the 
daylight  lasts.  But  dear,  dear  Harold,  if  you  should  get  this 
horrid  fever  ? " 

"Hush  !  not  another  word."  And  there  for  a  long  hour  he 
lay  beside  her,  bathing  her  burning  forehead  in  aqua  felsina 
and  water,  that  the  Doctor  had  left  by  the  bed-side  for  that  pur- 
pose.    At  length  she  faintly  murmured — 

"  I'm  so  thirsty,  love." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  as  soon  as  Mina  appeared,  shading  a 
candle  with  her  hand,  he  said — 

"  The  Duchess" — (and  no  parvenu  ever  pronounced  a  bran 
new  title  with  more  pride !) — "  the  Duchess  is  thirsty,  Mina ; 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  521 

have  the  goodness  to  ask  my  mother  and  Dr.  Scott  to  come 
here.  What  would  you  like  to  drink,  love  ? — tea  ? "  added  he, 
turning  to  his  wife. 

"  No,  not  tea,  something  cold,  if  I  may  have  it." 

"  Monseigneur^  Monsieur  le  Docteur  a  dit,  que  Madame  la 
Duchesse  pour  ajyj^rendre  de  Veau  d''orge  glacee^ 

"  Bien  ;  apportez  en  vite^''  said  he. 

Having  only  been  in  the  adjoining  room,  the  Duchess  audi 
Dr.  Scott  soon  obeyed  the  summons. 

"  My  dearest  child,"  said  the  former,  aflfectionately  embracing 
her  daughter-in-law,  "  I  hope  Liddesdale  has  not  been  making 
you  talk ;  and  mind,"  added  she,  holding  up  her  finger,  "  though 
I  ask  you  the  question,  I  don't  want  you  to  answer  it." 

"  Scott,"  said  the  Duke,  as  soon  as  the  physician  had  again 
felt  Edith's  pulse,  "  ten  thousand  pounds  for  you,  if  you  get  my 
wife  soon  well." 

"  I  assure  your  grace,"  replied  the  doctor,  *'  I  would  give 
it  sooner  than  take  it  to  do  so,  did  it  depend  upon  me ;  but 
really,  if  I  might  advise — I  mean  on  the  Duchess's  account — 
I  should  strongly  recommend  your  grace's  retiring  to  rest  as 
usual ;  for  I  am  sure  the  idea  of  your  sitting  up  with  her  will 
only  increase  her  fever." 

"  Indeed  will  it,"  said  Edith ;  "  so  do  promise  me,  Harold, 
that  you  will  go  to  bed." 

"  I'll  promise  you  that  I  wonH  sit  up  ;  but  leave  the  room 
I  not  only  cannot,  but  I  won't ;  but  I'll  lie  upon  the  sofa." 

"  You  see,  dear  Edith,"  said  his  mother,  trying  to  smile, 
"  what  a  Jesuit  he  is ;  moreover,  like  all  men,  the  moment  he 
turns  into  a  husband,  he  ivill  have  his  own  way  :  so,  for  the 
sake  of  a  quiet  life,  you  had  better  let  him  have  it." 

Edith's  only  reply  was  a  sigh,  as  she  cast  her  eyes,  full  of 
love  and  suffering,  on  her  husband.  The  Duchess  and  Murray 
remained  in  her  room  till  two  o'clock,  when  she  insisted  upon 
their  going  to  bed.  As  for  the  Duke,  notwithstanding  his  pro- 
mises of  lying  down  on  the  sofa,  there  was  no  getting  him  from 


522  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

her  bed-side.  About  four  in  the  morning,  when  Edith,  by  the 
pale  rays  of  the  night-light,  looked  out,  and  saw  his  fond  anx- 
ious eyes  wide  open,  and  still  watching  her,  she  said — 

"  As  you  will  not  sleep,  and  I  cannot,  do,  dearest,  read  to 
me  the  fifty-first  chapter  of  Isaiah." 

Like  that  of  the  elder  Wilmot,  the  Duke's  elocution  was 
faultless,  and  the  sublimities  of  the  prophet  lost  nothing  by  the 
deep,  touching,  and  harmonious  voice,  through  which  they 
were  now  uttered,  when  he  came  to  the  eleventh  and  twelfth 
verses, — 

11.  "Therefore  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and 
come  with  singing  unto  Zion  ;  and  everlasting  joy  shall  be  upon 
their  head  :  they  shall  obtain  gladness  and  joy,  and  sorrow  and 
mourning  shall  flee  away." 

12.  "I,  even  I,  mn  he  that  comforteth  you :  who  art  thou> 
that  thou  shouldest  be  afraid  of  a  man  that  shall  die,  and  of 
the  son  of  man  which  shall  be  made  as  grass  ? " 

Edith  made  him  read  them  over  again,  and  then  said — "  Re- 
member those,  dear  Harold." 

There  was  also  a  small  volume  which  Edith  never  was  with- 
out, of  perhaps  the  most  consolatory — because  the  most  divine- 
ly-thoughted  and  beautifully-worded — prayers  that  were  ever 
written,  by  the  author  of  "  The  Faithful  Promisee,"  entitled 
"  Morning  Watches,"  and  "  Night  Watches."  It  was  just  four 
nights  that  her  husband-lover  had  watched  beside  her,  and 
when  he  closed  the  Bible,  she  said  in  a  faint  voice,  "  If  you  are 
not  tired,  dearest,  would  you  read  me  the  fourth  "Night 
Watch  ? "  His  only  response  was  to  kneel  beside  her  bed,  and 
with  one  of  her  shadowy,  burning  hands  clasped  in  his,  he  pray- 
ed aloud  the  following  beautiful 

"  PRAYER." 

"  Whither  sliall  I  go  ffom  Thy  Spirit,  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from 
Thy  presence? " 

Psalm  cxxxix.  7. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  523 

"  The  ubiquity  of  God  !  bow  baffling  to  any  finite  corapre- 
bension !  to  tbink  tbat  above  us,  and  around  us,  and  witbin 
us,  tbere  is  notbing  but  Deity  !  tbe  invisible  footprints  of  an 
omniscient,  omnipresent  One  !  'His  eyes  are  on  every  place  ! ' 
on  rolling  planets,  and  tiny  atoms ;  on  tbe  brigbt  serapb,  and 
tbe  lowly  worm  ! — roaming  in  searcbing  scrutiny  tbrougb  tbe 
tracts  of  immensity,  and  reading  tbe  occult  and  bidden  page  of 
tbe  beart  !  'All  tbings  are  naked  and  opened  to  tbe  eyes  of 
Him  witli  wbom  we  bave  to  do.'  O  God  !  sball  tbis  Tby  omni- 
presence appal  me  ?  J^ay,  in  my  seasons  of  sadness,  sorrow, 
and  loneliness — wben  otber  comforts  and  comforters  bave  failed 
— wben,  it  may  be,  in  tbe  darkness  and  silence  of  some  mid- 
nigbt  bour,  in  vain  I  bave  sougbt  repose — bow  sweet  to  tbink 
'  My  God  is  bere  1 '  I  am  not  alone.  Tbe  omniscient  One,  to 
wbom  tbe  darkness  and  tbe  ligbt  are  botb  alike,  is  bovering 
over  my  sleepless  pillow  !  '  He  tbat  keepetb  Israel,  neitber 
slumbers  nor  sleeps ! ' 

"0  tbou  eternal  Sun!  it  cannot  be  darkness,  or  loneliness, 
or  sadness,  wbere  Tbou  art.  Tbere  can  be  no  nigbt  to  tbe  soul 
wbicb  bas  been  cbeered  witb  Tby  glorious  radiance ! 

"  'Lo  !  I  am  witb  you  alway  ! '  How  precious,  blessed  Lord  ! 
is  tbis  tby  legacy  of  parting  love  !  In  tbe  midst  of  Tby  Cburcb 
till  tbe  end  of  time — ever  present,  omnipresent  !  Tbe  true  '  Pil- 
lar of  cloud 'by  day,  and  fire  by  nigbt,  preceding  and  encamp- 
ing by  us,  in  every  step  of  our  wilderness  journey.  My  soul  • 
tbink  of  Him  at  tbis  moment ;  in  tbe  mysteriousness  of  His 
Godbead  nature,  and  yet  witb  all  tbe  exquisitely  tender  sym- 
patbies  of  a  glorified  bumanity,  as  ever  present  witb  every  mem- 
ber of  the  fomily.  He  bas  redeemed  with  His  blood !  aye,  and 
as  much  present  witb  every  individual  soul  as  if  be  bad  none 
otber  to  care  for,  but  as  if  that  one  engrossed  all  His  affection 
and  love  !  Tbe  Great  Builder,  surveying  every  stone  and  pillar 
of  His  spiritual  temple — tbe  Great  Shepherd,  with  his  eye  on 
every  sheep  of  His  fold — tbe  Great  High  Priest  and  Elder 
Brother,  marking  every  tear-drop,  noting  every  sorrow,  listening 


624  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

to  every  prayer,  knowing  the  peculiarities  of  every  case ;  no 
nnmber  perplexing  Him — no  variety  bewildering  Him — able 
to  attend  to  all ! — myriad  wants  drawing  hourly  on  His  trea- 
sury, and  yet  no  diminution :  that  treasury  ever  emptying,  and 
yet  ever  filling,  and  always  full ! 

"  Lord !  Thy  perpetual  and  all-pervading  presence  turns 
darkness  into  day.  I  am  not  left  unbefriended  to  weather  the 
storms  of  hfe,  if  Thy  hand  be  from  hour  to  hour  piloting  my  frail 
bark.  Gracious  antidote  to  every  earthly  sorrow,  '/  have 
set  the  Lord  always  before  me  I '  Even  now^  as  night  is  draw- 
ing its  curtains  around  me,  be  this  my  closing  prayer — 

" '  Blessed  Saviour !  abide  with  me,  for  it  is  toward  evening, 
and  the  day  is  far  spent ! '  Under  the  overshadowing  wings  of 
Thy  presence  and  love, 

"I  WILL  LAY  ME  DOWN  IN  PEACE,    AND  SLEEP." 

"  Thanks,  dearest,"  murmured  Edith ;  "  when  I  am  gone 
think  of  these  words  as  mine,  and  then  you  will  not  forget 
them." 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

In  truth,  he  was  not  likely  to  forget  them,  for  six  nights  and 
days  he  watched  by  that  bed-side,  with  a  bursting  heart,  to  be 
torn  from  it  on  the  seventh  with  a  broken  one.  The  mortal 
had  put  on  immortality.  The  innocent  of  earth  had  become 
the  spotless  of  Heaven ;  the  riven  heart  of  the  husband  lover 
was  buried  in  the  coffin  with  his  bride ;  but  the  trusting  soul 
of  the  Christian  followed  the  angel  to  her  eternal  home  !  where 
death  cannot  come,  and  where  sorrow  is  unknown  ! 

'k  %  %  H;  Hi 

***** 

The  Duchess  of  Liddesdale,  having  the  burdens  of  many 
hearts  to  bear,  tried  to  set  aside  the  heavy  sorrow  of  her  own  : 
she  broke  the  intelligence  of  Edith's  departure  as  gently  as 
might  be  to  Mrs.  Dunbar. 

"  Another  bairn  gone  before  !  are  there,  then,  none  but  the 
young  let  into  Heaven  ?  "  murmured   the  poor  old  lady ;  and 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  52o 

then  fell  back  into  a  calm  sleep,  from  which  she  never  woke 
again  in  this  world. 

The  Archdeacon  was  most  sincerely  grieved,  no — disap- 
pointed  ;  nor  did  any  circumstance  tend  to  console  him,  till  he 
saw  the  silver  ducal  coronet  on  Edith's  violet  velvet  coffin,  when 
he  said  out  loud,  though  alone, — 

"  Well,  she  died  a  duchess,  at  all  events !  and  /  am  con- 
nected, though  distantly  it  is  true,  with  one  of  the  greatest 
families  in  the  kingdom." 

The  whole  village  of  Glenfern  seemed  to  mourn  but  with 
one  heart,  and  to  weep  as  if  with  one  pair  of  eyes.  A  fortnight 
after  Edith's  joyous  return  to  the  home  of  her  childhood,  the 
sound  of  the  bells  of  the  village  church  rolled  across  the  lea,  but 
they  were  not  the  merry  chimings  of  marriage  bells !  and  yet 
they  were  nuptial  peals — for  the  young  bride  was  being  con- 
veyed from  the  kirk  to  the  tomb  of  her  fathers ! 

That  night,  when  the  moon  had  risen,  and  Alciphron  Mur- 
ray, once  more  with  Eos,  was  wading  through  the  dank  grass 
of  the  wilderness  to  the  mausoleum,  he  found  Meggie  Armstrong- 
sitting  on  the  step  of  the  entrance,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro, 
and  muttering — 

I  heard  it  in  the  river ! 

I  saw  it  in  the  cloud ! 

They  brought  a  wreath  to  give  her, 

And  it  turned  to  a  shroud ! 


L'ENVOL 

The  Editor  to  Alciphron. 

Friend  Alciphron, — 

It  may  perhaps  be  said,  that  all  who  publish  a  book  in  these 
days,  when  there  are  already  only  too  many,  do  a  foolish  thing ; 
but  thou  hast  done  a  foolish  thing,  bearing  a  hundred  foolish 
blossoms.  First,  thou  hast  published  thy  book  without  knowing 
not*  only  any  clique  of  the  Press,  but  even  any  individual  of  a 
clique,  which,  indeed,  might  have  enabled  thee  and  thy  book  to 
pass  as  unnoticed  as  an  additional  drop  added  to  the  sea;  hadst 
thou  not  been  guilty  of  the  still  greater  folly,  of  getting  me,  of 
all  people  in  the  world — or  rather  out  of  the  world — to  edit  it ; 
and  therefore  thou  art  likely  to  reap  a  plentiful  harvest  of  abuse 
from  all  cliques,  who  are  literary  Swiss,  ever  ready  to  do  battle 
for  or  against  any  one,  provided  they  are  only  ^Jfa/c?  for  so  do- 
ing ;  and  there  is  only  one  halfpennyworth  of  bread  to  all  this 
sack,  or  in  other  words,  only  one  handful  of  honest,  well-disci- 
plined troops  to  all  these  mercenaries.  Next,  thou  hast  had  the 
insufferable  pretension,  like  thy  Greek  protoype  and  namesake, 
to  describe  men  and  women  as  they  are,  rather  than  as  they 
ought  to  be  (always  with  the  exception  of  the  Duchess  Dowager 
of  Liddesdale — for  I  confess  never  to  have  seen,  or  even  to  have 
heard,  of  such  a  mother-in-law  !  in  or  out  of  Paradise,  for  both 
Adam  and  Eve  were  singularly  blest  in  not  having  one  ;  and 
I  think  that  must  have  been  the  real  forbidden,  as  it  is  the  for- 
bidding fruit  which  the  devil  helped  the  silly  creatures    to). 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  52*7 

Therefore,  friend  Alcipbron,  as  thou  hast  presumed  to  do  pho- 
tographic portraits,  rather  than  graceful  cotdeur  cle  rose  mytho- 
logical heau  ideals^  were  I  not  too  tired  getting  thy  book  into  what 
the  sailors  call  "  ship-shape," — which,  of  course,  a  book  must  be, 
before  it  is  launched — I  could  write  thee  the  ex^^oi  quantum  and 
style  of  abuse  thou  w'ilt  have  from  each  separate  Siviss  review, 
with  the  flavour  of  all  the  spicing  done  to  order  !  For  wo  un- 
to thee  !  oh,  Alcipbron  !  hast  thou  not  thrown  down  the  gaunt- 
let to  that  Paterfamilias  of  interminable  progeny,  and  bulwarks 
of  relations  in  all  directions — the  great  Mr.  TWADDLE ! 
Whereas,  hadst  thou  instead  only  have  sent  the  old  gentleman 
a  turkey  at  Christmas,  stuffed  full  of  the  most  orthodox  preju- 
dices ;  and  enough  painted  cake  to  have  made  all  the  little 
Twaddles  a  real  blessing  to  the  apothecaries'  shops;  and  a 
beautifully  bound  edition  of  Hansard  to  each  of  the  Twaddles 
in  office ;  and  a  Peerage  and  Book  of  Beauty  to  all  the  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Twaddles — then,  indeed,  thou  wouldst  have  had  all 
the  world  and  his  mother-in-law  praising  thee  and  thy  book, 
and,  who  knows,  perhaps  actually  inviting  thee  out  to  tea ! 
Again,  thou  hast  an  ugly,  prosy  trick  of  thinking,  and  that  even 
the  publishers  can't  bear;  they  tell  you  so  ;  for  their  sheet-an- 
chor is  the  circulating  libraries  ;  therefore,  in  a  work  of  fiction, 
they  like  reflections  to  be  few  and  far  between,  like  brains  in  a 
critic's  head.  However,  don't  quite  despair ;  there  is  a  certain 
fable  about  a  painter  who  tried  to  please  every  one,  and  there- 
fore pleased  no  one ;  but  as  thou  hast  tried  to  please  nobody, 
thou  mayest,  perchance,  please  somebody. 

In  the  adamantine  chain  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  Ferrars'  selfish- 
ness, to  the  links  of  which,  the  complex  miseries  of  others  are 
ever  appending,  you  develop  the  «2;/>arm^/y  contradictory,  but 
perfectly  compatible,  vices  of  intense  meanness  and  parsimony, 
with  extreme  ostentation  and  extravagance,  which  are  the  usu- 
al concomitants  of  the  self-woi-shipping  sensualist,  and  which  is 
a  true  type  of  what  our  present  social,  or  rather  anti-social  sys- 
tem, with  its  intellectual  fiorettori^  can,  and  but  too  often  does, 


528  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

produce,  namely,  a  solid  block  of  vice,  gnarled  with  villany,  but 
veneered  with  virtue !  (?)  and  highly  varnished  with  hypocrisy, 
which  in  these  days  of  pretension  and  of  sham,  is  a  far  more 
marketable  and  popular  commodity  that  the  rococo  genuine  ar- 
ticle of  unvarnished  excellence. 

Yet  if  these  seeming,  thickly  strewn,  and  ever-springing 
thorny  injustices  of  earth,  make  us  either  doubt  or  despair,  where 
is  our  faith  in  the  ubiquitous  Godhead  wdiom  we  profess  to 
worship  ?  "  Wilt  thou  not  trust  Him,  even  though  thou  canst 
not  trace  the  mystery  of  His  dealings  ?  "  But  if  thy  Ao/je — 
that  best  brave  courage  of  the  soul !  be  indeed  so  weak  and 
fainting,  that  it  needs  re-steeping  in  the  cold  swift  streams  of 
earth  to  brace  it ;  plunge  it  at  least  into  those  which  the  most 
faithfully  reflect  the  bright  eternal  galaxy  of  Heaven  ! — and  hear 
the  Apocalypse  of  a  recent,  but  immortal !  Poet  : — * 

"But,  better  days,  and  brighter,  and  as  deep 
In  strife,  and  more  heroic  than  romance, 
May  dawn  ;  and  ere  I  sink.     There  comes  a  day 
For  Europe  and  the  woi'ld — the  nations'  day, 
When  rising  hearts  span  ages  with  a  bound ! 
And  the  earth  shakes,  and  heaven.  There  may  be  days 
For  men  and  glorious  women  ;  there  will  be 
Those  women  then :  bright  women,  quickening  men, 
And  lulling  loftiest  cares  on  their  sweet  breasts, 
Soft  wave — swell  to  the  gallant  on-borne  bark, 
And  lulling  deepest  cares  in  their  sweet  laps, 
"With  more  than  solace — more  than  sympathy. 
«  *  *  *  -jfr 

And  I  my  day  may  find.     It  yet  may  be ; 
Time  will  bring  all.     I  once  my  hour  may  see." 

*  See  a  small  casket  of  those  rarest  of  all  literary  pearls,  a  collec- 
tion of  exquisite  and  genuine  poetry,  entitled 

"  MORBIDA," 

OR    "Passion   Past,  and  other  Poems,  from   the   Cymric  and  other 

SOURCES," 

Recently  published  by  Saundei*s  and  Otley :  London,  1854, 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  629 

But,  worst  of  uU,  thou  hast  photographed  with  such  a  ven- 
geance, that  thou  hast  dealt  with  thy  good  people  and  thy  bad 
people  exactly  as  they  are  dealt  with  in  this  world  :  that  is,  thou 
hast  overwhelmed  the  former  in  affliction  (with  yet  a  thread  of 
tine  gold  running  through  it,  spun  from  God's  promises,  which 
supports  them  under  all),  and  thou  hast  towered  up  thy  bad 
people  with  prosperity — but  yet,  a  black  drop  in  the  dregs  of 
then-  jewelled  cup,  w^hich  dims  the  diamond's  flash,  and  poisons 
all  their  nectar.  Xow,  depend  upon  it,  the  critics  accustomed 
to  the  tag  five-pound  note  moral  at  the  end  of  five-shilling 
books,  of  all  the  good  people  being  terrestrially  regaled  with 
bread  and  jam,  and  all  the  naughty  ones  put  in  the  corner,  at 
the  end  of  the  said  books  (which  shoidd  be  made  to  follow  their 
example),  will  think  this  a  very  bad  moral,  not  to  say  a  wicked 
heresy  !  But  this  is  the  part  of  the  book  I  admire  the  most, 
friend  Alciphron,  and  find  no  fault  with,  because  it  shows  thee 
to  be  a  true  believer,  ^y\\o  feels  as  well  as  trusts^ihviX  this  world 
is  but  God's  crucible,  in  which  He  tries  and  separates  the  pure 
ore,  His  pure  ore  from  the  dross ;  therefore,  in  this  crucible  the 
dross  must  necessarily  have  the  best  of  it,  as  the  scum  invaria- 
bly rises  to  the  top.  Little  "  evidence  of  things  not  seen  "  can 
that  heart  have,  which,  however  great  the  apparenc  injustice  of 
its  trials,  for  one  moment  doubts  this  :  which  does  not,  however, 
mean  that  the  most  sincere  Christians,  any  more  than  the  most 
hardened  sceptics,  can  avoid  murmuring  under  such  trials  ;  but 
there  are  two  sorts  of  murmuring — one  is  of  the  spirit,  unto 
defiance  and  blasphemy !  the  other  is  of  the  flesh,  unto  w^eak- 
ness  and  prayer  !  the  former  pulls  us  down  below  the  level  of 
the  earth,  the  other  raises  us  up  far,  far  beyond  it.  It  is  not 
that  the  most  exalted  faith  can  save  us  from  a  single  sorrow, 
misfortune,  or  even  torture,  in  this  world  ;  but  it  makes  mar- 
tyrs of  us,  instead  of  victims  ; — the  martyr  sees  the  crown  be- 
yond the  stake,  the  victim  sees  and  feels  nothing  but  the  flames. 
Therefore,  let  none  expect  either  redress  for  wrong,  or  reward 
for  right,  in  this  world. 
23 


630  BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 

Witness  the  late  dastardly  calumnies  upon  Prince  Albert : — 
whom  the  generality  of  persons  might  have  supposed,  that  de- 
serving so  richly  as  His  Royal  Highness  does  to  be  revered  as 
a  man,  and  respected  as  a  citizen,  he  might  have  continued 
(more  especially  in  England)  to  have  received  the  adulation  of 
a  prince,  which  for  once,  being  justly  due,  was  not  fulsome ;  but 
no,  even  royal  virtues  cannot,  it  seems,  be  exempt  from  the  tax 
the  world  imposes  upon  all  virtue — therefore,  even  this  most 
wise  and  estimable  prince — 

"  Per  honiinum  capita  mollitei'  ambulaus, 
Plantas  pedum  teneras  habeus" — 

still  could  not  tread  sufficiently  gently,  with  all  his  most  admi- 
rably balanced  discretion  and  nice  observance,  to  prevent  some 
pohtical  valetudinarians  fancying  that  he  had  trod  on  their 
gouty  prejudices  ! 

One  woi-d  more  on  the  drift  of  thy  "  Lay  Sermons,"  friend 
Alciphron,  ere  I  bid  thee  farewell.  Thou  wouldst  inculcate  the 
doctrine  of  a  generous,  universal,  and  yet  individual  sympathy 
. — that  divine  germ  of  real  Christianity;  thou  wouldst,  in  fact, 
do  away  with  our  hog-in-armour  national  selfishness,  by  bring- 
ing into  daily  and  practical  use,  Solon's  axiom,  that  "Injustice 
would  soon  cease  from  the  world  if  the  bystanders  would  only 
feel  the  same  indignation  against  it  that  the  victims  do."  Moon- 
shine !  gird  up  thy  loins — pass  on  and  rejoin  Solon  in  the 
Elysian  Fields  ! — thou  wilt  never  bring  it  to  pass  here,  for  know- 
est  thou  not  that  we  are  a  commercial  people,  and  go  to  market 
even  with  the  Decalogue,  merely  selecting  such  portions  of  it 
as  can  serve  our  own  purposes,  and  supply  our  own  individual 
wants,  like  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Cantwell.  The  reverend  gentle- 
man (so  the  legend  runs)  was  traveUing  once  upon  a  time  upon 
the  top  of  a  vehicle  known  to  our  ancestoi-s,  and  called  a  stage- 
coach, when,  in  passing  a  cottage  door,  he  saw  two  geese  fight- 
ing, and  begging  the  coachman  to  stop,  he  jumped  down, 
seized  the  fattest  of  the  two  combatants,  v.'rano*  its  neck,  thrust 


BEHIND    THE    bCE>'ES.  531 

it  into  his  pocket  for  supper,  and  nimbly  regaining  his  seat  be- 
side the  coachman,  exclaimed  with  a  glow  of  pious  virtue, 
"  Blessed  are  the  peace-makers !  "  They  had  not  proceeded 
above  five  miles  farther,  where  they  stopped  to  change  horses, 
when  lo !  there  was  a  man  beating  his  wife  most  unmercifully. 
"  There  !  Mr.  Peacemaker,"  cried  Jehu,  "  is  more  work  for  you." 
"  Not  so,"  replied  the  Rev.  Ebenezer,  turning  up  his  eyes  and 
hands  with  the  most  saintly  horror  ! — "  Cursed  be  he,  who  sep- 
arateth  man  and  w^ife  I  "  And  the  reverend  gentleman  is  our 
model,  in  social,  moral,  political,  and  ecclesiastical  matters.  But, 
let  not  this  world's  injustice,  which  was  created  with  it  (and 
therefore  will  only  cease  with  it),  make  us  look  round  and  des- 
pair; rather,  on  the  contrary,  let  it /orcc  us  to  look  up  and 
HOPE !  Those  upon  whom  it  has  not  this  effect, — whatevei- 
they  may  profess  to  the  contrary, — doubt  the  sufficiency  of  the 
atonement,  and  the  sincerity  of  the  Gospel !  God  speed  thee  ! 
Alciphron,  for  thou  doubtest  neither. 
Thy  Friend, 
Though  not  thy  Counsellor, 

Rosin  A  Bulwer  Lytton. 
JoMuory  dOth,  1854. 


THE   END. 


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